Burned but not Broken
by turtle-03
Summary: Five years after Harry's graduation from Hogwarts, Voldemort has risen again. Now Harry has to struggle to protect those he loves, while mourning those he couldn't save. Rated R for some strong language in the later chapters.
1. It was Halloween

_It was Halloween and the world was burning.  
  
Buildings crumbled and ashes rained from the sky to litter the streets. Charred embers shattered on the ground and glittered like diamonds in the dark. The sky was black with clouds and smoke. He drifted among the rubble, not daring to hope that anyone else was alive. Every noise that reached his ears sounded like the agonized screams that rang in his memory. In his mind's eye, he could see the bodies of the other Aurors who had so blindly followed him to their deaths. He was bound and forced to watch as they writhed in agony and finally went still, free from the pain he had brought upon them. He knew he would never be free of their final cries; his punishment for his deadly arrogance. Dimly, he realized that the glass shards on the sidewalk didn't crunch under his feet. The falling cinders passed right through him. His last memories flashed behind his eyelids. Red eyes narrowed with glee and the high whispered "Avada Kedavra". The next thing he knew, he was waking up on this broken avenue with only one thought.  
  
The war was over. They had lost.  
  
It was Halloween._  
  
"Help me! Please, somebody help!" The frightened yelp yanked Harry back from his memories and into reality. This isn't a dream. It's really over, he thought. "Please! I need help!" Another frantic cry rang out and Harry began to search for the source. After a minute of searching, he found a pudgy, middle-aged man trapped under a pile of broken wood.  
  
"Hey, are you alright?" Harry bent over the man.  
  
"Do I look like I'm alright? I'm – "he broke off and stared wide-eyed at Harry. "You're a ghost!"  
  
"Am not." Harry countered, rolling his eyes at the little Muggle.  
  
"Yes you are! Look, you're glowing!"  
  
"Oh, leave off. There's no such thing as ghosts."  
  
"How can you say that? You're clearly a ghost!"  
  
"And you're a loony."  
  
The man struggled again under the jagged wood. "Well then, can you help me?"  
  
"Sorry pal. Can't lift things when you're intangible." Harry raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness.  
  
"Ha! I told you you're a ghost!" Harry rolled his eyes again and began to float way.  
  
"Wait! Where are you going? You can't leave me like this!" The man coughed weakly and struggled again.  
  
"I'm going to find someone who can get you out. Keep your shorts on and don't go anywhere."  
  
Harry could hear him mumbling, _"Where does he think I'll go?"_ as he flew down the street looking for any survivors. It was nearly ten minutes before he spotted a live person. The girl was sitting on the curb, a few blocks from where he'd left the whiny Muggle. Her clothes were filthy and one side of her head had most of the hair burnt off.  
  
"Miss! Are you in any condition to – "he gasped as she raised her head to look at him. "'Mione!"  
  
"Harry! You're – "she ran to hug him and went straight through his chest. "– alive."  
  
"Umm...not so much." He looked sheepish as she sat back on the curb in shock.  
  
"'Mione...where's Ron?" The two of them had been living together since they'd all left school.  
  
"Dead," she answered flatly. "Ron is dead, Neville's dead, Arthur's dead, you're dead...God, I wish I was too!" Silent tears made white paths on her sooty cheeks as she stared at nothing.  
  
"What happened?" Harry asked quietly.  
  
"They came to our flat. Three of them. The youngest Death Eaters I've ever seen, probably just out of school. When they broke down the door, Ron shoved me in a broom closet...oh my Ronnie...he wanted to protect me. Neville and Arthur too. But when all three of them were dead, those monsters set fire to the building! And I was trapped in that closet and Ron's b-his body was in front of the door. The roof was already falling in and I couldn't even get them out so they could be buried!" At this, she broke down into sobs that wracked her frail body. Harry almost put his arms around her until he remembered that being hugged by a ghost is far from comforting.  
  
"Hermione, love, there will be a time to cry for them, but now we have to try to help as many people as we can, before it's too late for all of them too." She smeared the dirt on her face by trying to wipe her eyes and looked at him.  
  
"I thought I was the only one left alive in all of London," she sighed miserably.  
  
"Nope, there's at least one other. A rather fat little Muggle a few blocks back, trapped under some wood. I couldn't help him, so let's go back and find him, ok?" Hermione nodded and rose to follow him. On the way, he told her of his last few hours alive. How Shacklebolt, Zabini, and Patil had come with him when he sought out Voldemort's hiding place. How they had all been killed, Harry last. It was odd, talking about his own death as if it were a commonplace occurrence. Not many people get this chance, he mused, to tell the story of how they died.  
  
The pudgy Muggle was wailing again. Harry hung back as Hermione shifted the rubble from him and helped him stand.  
  
"Lord love you, miss. I thought I was going to die here. I even thought I saw a ghost, how silly is that?" He let out a nervous giggle and Hermione almost smiled.  
  
"It's perfectly normal to see things when you're under – "  
  
"A great pile of wood?" the man offered.  
  
"Well, I was going to say 'a lot of stress' but I guess that's appropriate too." Hermione did smile now and Harry felt a bit of his concern for her lift when he saw she hadn't lost her sense of humor. The little man thanked her again and went in the opposite direction from Harry. Hermione walked back to where Harry was hiding.  
  
"Harry, do we know for sure if anyone else survived tonight?" Her face betrayed her fears. Voldemort had more supporters than ever before and they had been out in droves tonight for a sort of purge. Unbidden, a face swam before Harry's eyes. Waving, raven hair, eyes blue like a warm summer sky...  
  
"Romilly," he breathed.  
  
"Romy? Where is she?" Hermione looked puzzled.  
  
"In the mountains up north. I sent her there two weeks ago."  
  
"Two weeks? Why? We've only known about the plans for tonight for three days."  
  
"She's pregnant," Harry said bluntly.  
  
"Pregnant? Oh my...is it yours?"  
  
"_Is it_...no, 'Mione, Romy got knocked up by some other bloke, but I'm still marrying her anyway."  
  
"Can ghosts get married?"  
  
"Oh shut up. I need to think for a minute." He wracked his brain for some way to..."Hermione! Can you still ride a broom?"  
  
"Badly, why?"  
  
"We're not far from my flat. I've got the old Firebolt there."  
  
"Why can't we just Apparate?"  
  
"Two reasons. One, you don't know where it is. Two, I can't do jack to save her by myself. Now come on!" He set off towards his flat with Hermione jogging behind.  
  
"Does this thing still fly?" she asked in distaste upon seeing the old broom.  
  
"Of course it does! Sure, it's got a few miles on it..."  
  
"Harry, you've literally flown it around the world." Harry grinned at the memory.  
  
"Yeah, I sure did. Hey! That reminds me, you never did take that trip to Nepal with me like we talked about all – "  
  
"I think we have more important things to do right now, don't you?"  
  
"Right. We'd better get going."  
  
"Merlin, this thing is going to fall apart with me on it." Hermione said when they got to the street. "Harry...I've just thought of something. Don't you think Romy will be safer if we _don't_ go see her?" She furrowed her brow in thought.  
  
"He knows where she is, 'Mione, and he knows she's carrying my child. He saw it all in my head tonight. Merlin, I've screwed everything up, haven't I? I didn't finish him off five years ago like I should've, I let Kingsley and Blaise and Padma get killed, I gave away everything because I couldn't close my mind...I didn't even make it to the afterlife properly!" He pulled at his hair in frustration.  
  
"Harry, it's ok. We'll save Romy, but we've got to get going now!" Harry nodded bleakly and led her to a cul de sac where she could take off easily, muttering, _"I'd beat my stupid head off a wall if I wasn't so bloody spectral..."  
_  
They took off from the street, Harry leading and Hermione following unsteadily on the ancient Firebolt. 


	2. Regrouping

Four hours later, a frantic Harry and a frozen Hermione landed in front of a tiny cabin in the middle of a dense forest. Though it was past three in the morning, the whole clearing was ablaze with light. Harry stormed into the house.  
  
"Romilly! Romy, baby, are you in here?"  
  
"Harry?" A tiny voice reached Harry's ears. Suddenly, the floorboards lifted and Romilly's face appeared. "Harry, you made it! Oh my God...Harry, you're – look out!" Before she could finish a sentence, a beam of green light passed through Harry's midsection.  
  
Romy let the floorboards drop and Hermione flopped to the ground. Harry turned and saw Lucius Malfoy strutting out of the trees.  
  
"I knew you'd come, Potter. I couldn't find your little bitch, but I knew you'd do the work for me." Harry just glared.  
  
"That's a very pretty girl you've got in there, Potter. I wouldn't mind getting another look at her."  
  
"You lecherous old rat! You stay away from her!"  
  
"What if I don't? You can't hurt me, boy. You're nothing but a shadow, a whisp of smoke. What do you think you're going to do?"  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
Malfoy's wand flew from his hand and landed on the roof. Hermione stepped out from behind Harry and aimed a Stunner at Malfoy. He ducked and avoided it, but was hit when Romy sent another red jet at him. He collapsed to the ground and remained motionless. Harry ran to Romy's side.  
  
"Romilly...are you alright?"  
  
"Fine, perfectly fine. None of them laid a curse on me. You weren't so lucky, I see." She heaved a heavy sigh and lifted herself out of the floor.  
  
"None of them? How many were there?" Harry glanced nervously around the small room as if he expected Death Eaters to pop out of the walls.  
  
"Six or seven, I don't know. They're in the full body bind 'round the back."  
  
"You fought off six Death Eaters by yourself? Go Romy!" Hermione squeezed the other woman's hand and winked.  
  
"Not entirely by myself. Do you think Albus would leave me with no protection?"  
  
"Where is he, anyway? I thought we agreed that he was going to stay here until I arrived." Harry glowered at the thought of Dumbledore leaving Romy alone.  
  
"Calm down, honey. He went to secure the school. They've set up a kind of camp for the survivors." She led them into the cramped kitchen and sat Hermione down at the table.  
  
"Did he get any reports of who...you know...before he left?" Harry hovered behind his chair as Romy bustled around the kitchen, putting water on for tea and bringing out first aid supplies for Hermione.  
  
"Last count was nineteen dead in the Order. Of course, I think that was counting 'Mione, so eighteen then."  
  
"Who?" Harry asked bleakly.  
  
"Well, Ron, Neville, and Arthur you know about, I assume." Harry nodded. Romy ticked the names off on her fingers. "You, Kingsley, and Padma. Molly, Ernie, Mundungus, and Dedalus were all at Grimmauld when it was attacked. Severus is badly wounded and probably won't make it. No word from Tonks or Moody yet. Minerva, poor old dear, didn't make it either." She sighed again and sat down.  
  
This is the reality of war, Harry though through a haze of pain. So many lost...and to what end? Silvery tears slid down his cheeks as he counted the people he'd never see again. Molly and Arthur, the closest things to parents that he'd ever known. Ron, Neville, his brothers in the truest sense of the word. He lifted his head.  
  
"What about Remus? Hagrid? Ginny?"  
  
"Full moon tonight. Remus is out in the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid and Ginny came through alright, though I heard that brother of Hagrid's is dead."  
  
"Grawp? You'd think Avada Kedavra wouldn't even dent his hide." Harry smiled as fond memories of the unruly giant filled his thoughts.  
  
"He died protecting his brother, the big sweetheart. Now Hermione, let's finish our tea and get some clean clothes for you. Then we'll all get up to Hogwarts for the meeting in the morning." She pushed Hermione out the door and up the stairs. The two of them could be heard shuffling around and opening drawers.  
  
Harry paced around the table quietly and let the glaring truth of his failure set in._ It all could've been over tonight, had I not been such a fool. Now I just need to keep my brilliant ideas to myself and maybe I won't be responsible for any more deaths._ He paced until Hermione and Romy came back down the stairs and signalled for him to head outside. He drifted morosely through the wall and saw Romilly mounting the Firebolt.  
  
"Er...I don't think you ought to be on that...in your condition..."  
  
"Oh, condition nothing. Don't start that already. I'm not even three months along and there's no other way. We can't Apparate into Hogsmeade. God only knows what sort of trouble went on there tonight and we can't Apparate onto the grounds. Besides, can ghosts Apparate?"  
  
"I hadn't thought," Harry replied. It struck him how well his fiancee was taking his death. _She'll probably have quite an episode later, when it all sinks in. Then again, my Romy has never been one to buckle under pressure._  
  
She kicked off from the ground with Hermione clinging to her and Harry flying close behind. 


	3. The Full Weight

  
Harry was thankful that Hogwarts was only fifteen minutes away by broom. The cold autumn air surely wasn't good for Romy and the baby, and Hermione was not well at all.  
  
They touched down on the front steps of the castle and found the huge doors firmly shut and locked. Harry tried to fly through and found himself lying on the steps after bouncing back violently. They tried knocking urgently instead. A tiny window opened and a long nose stuck through.  
  
"Hellooooooo? Who iiiiiiiiiiis it?" It was Peeves. _Who the hell put **him** on guard duty?_ Harry thought, very irritated by now.  
  
"Peeves, it's us. Harry, Romy, and Hermione."  
  
"Harry, Romy, and Hermione who?" They could hear the laughter in Peeves' voice.  
  
"Harry Potter, Romilly MacAran, and Hermione Granger. Peeves, open the damn door!" Harry said through his teeth.  
  
"Fine then, no need to get snippy." The huge doors opened just enough for them to squeeze through.  
  
The poltergeist bobbed in front of them and surveyed Harry with dancing eyes.  
  
"Had a bit of an accident did you, wee Potty?"  
  
"Shove off, Peeves. But first, tell me where Madame Pomfrey is." Hermione needed to see the nurse immediately and it wouldn't hurt to get Romy checked out as well.  
  
"That room off the Great Hall. You know, the one I always caught you snogging Miss Weasley in." Peeves cackled and Harry grinned.  
  
"Thanks Peeves." Harry turned to the girls as Peeves went back to the door. "You know the situation is bad when Peeves is actually behaving himself." He winked and floated through the wall into the little room off the Great Hall. He found Madame Pomfrey dozing by the fire. He called her name until she awoke with a start. She gasped and stood quickly, taking a tentative step forward.  
  
"Mr. Potter," she said breathily. "I've spent what seems like a century patching you up from all manner of injuries over the years, and you've finally come to me with something I can't cure. Oh Merlin, I never thought I'd live to see you like this..." she smiled ruefully, probably thinking of the time she'd grown back all the bones in his arm, or tended his burns that he'd acquired from a dragon, or any number of incidents.  
  
"It's a bit of a shock to me too. But I have someone else here who needs your attention more than I do." He put his head back through the wall and gestured for Hermione to enter. She came through the door with Romy right behind her.  
  
Madame Pomfrey went about her work with as much efficiency as always, though tears shone in her eyes. Soon, the cuts and bruises and burns on Hermione's face and arms were healed and her hair was completely regrown. The old nurse patted her back fondly and sent them into the Great Hall.  
  
The room was filled with cots, but it was still decorated with bats and pumpkins from the Halloween feast. Only Dumbledore would throw a party on the bloodiest night of an already bloody war.  
  
The hall was dark, but light from the full moon reached out from the enchanted ceiling and spilled across the floor. A few corners were lit with candles, where people huddled, talking quietly. Harry saw a glint of red hair in the farthest corner and and made his way around the cots. As he approached, all four heads around the table turned to look at him. Right...hard to sneak up on people when you're lit up like a light bulb. Ginny Weasley stepped into the light, looking thin, drawn, and pale. Dark circles ringed her eyes and her hair was a tangled mess. _Oh Ginny, my friend, my first love...look what I've brought you to._ Harry's pain at losing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley was doubled as he saw it mirrored back to him in Ginny's face. No matter what he was feeling, he knew that she was worse off than he.  
  
A man he hardly recognized stood up beside Ginny and put a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Fred..." Harry whispered, shocked at his appearance. He didn't show any indication of his former vitality and exuberance. The ginger head shook almost imperceptibly.  
  
"Fred didn't come through it," he said in the barest whisper.  
  
"Oh my god, George..." Hermione threw herself into his arms and wept on his shoulder. Suddenly, his disheveled appearance made sense. Half of him had died tonight. Harry couldn't even imagine losing someone that close to him. He had to look away as new tears began coursing down George's cheeks. The agony in his eyes was too clear and Harry's heart broke from seeing it. He turned to Ginny, almost afraid to look into her face. If anyone had the right to hate him, it was the Weasley family.  
  
"Gin," he said tentatively. "Ginny, I'm so sorry."  
  
"Sorry for what?" she snapped. "Sorry that you did the right thing five years ago? Sorry that you still have a conscience and a good heart? Sorry that you, a brand new Auror, couldn't stop the most evil and powerful wizard of the past hundred years? I know you, Harry, better than most people. And I know that you blame yourself for all of this. Don't. There was nothing more you could do. You gave everything to try to stop him, even your life. And if that was the best you could do, then he can't be stopped, because no one else could've done better."  
  
Harry almost smiled at her adamant words. "Thank you, Gin," he choked out. She nodded and wrapped her arm around George, who had just broken free from Hermione's embrace. The other two men at the table stood up then to hug Hermione. Bill and Charlie looked haggard, but otherwise unharmed. They nodded sadly at Harry, and his heart eased a little to find his oldest "adopted" brothers alive. He glanced around the room quickly.  
  
"Where's Percy?"  
  
"Still no word." Bill rolled his eyes. "Of course, it won't even occur to him to let us know that he's ok, or to ask after his family's safety. Besides, you remember how he is. He's probably hiding in his flat with all the lights off, hoping no Death Eaters come knocking," he said with a disgusted look on his face. The rift between Percy and the rest of his family had never entirely healed. They didn't hear from him often, and hardly ever saw him. Harry sighed. Even catastrophes like tonight's couldn't bring the remnants of this broken family together.  
  
Just then, the front doors could be heard creaking open and low voices drifted into the hall. Harry craned his neck to see who had arrived, but a clunking set of footsteps identified the newcomers before he saw them. He ran to greet Moody and Tonks as they entered the hall, looking exhausted.  
  
"Mad-Eye! Tonks! We thought you were goners!" Tonks laughed at Harry's greeting.  
  
"You know Mad-Eye, Harry. He's too ornery to die!" Tonks laughed again.  
  
Moody's good eye twinkled a little. "You know Tonks too. She'd be dead if she hadn't tripped over her own feet just as that lousy Lestrange woman aimed a curse at her." Harry laughed this time, loudly enough that several people sat up on their cots and scolded him. Moody smiled a little.  
  
"But we fixed that scum good and made it out with our skins," he continued, and then scanned Harry's body with both eyes. "You should be so lucky, eh Potter?"  
  
"Don't I know it. I – "he began.  
  
"Don't start that guilt rubbish again. You've been beating yourself over the head since Voldemort escaped, and it turns my stomach. A man ought to own up to his mistakes, but he shouldn't take the blame for something not of his doing." Moody glared and Harry came as close as a ghost can to blushing.  
  
"I – "  
  
"That's the last I want to hear on the subject. Now, I need to go find Albus and then get some shut-eye." He nodded to Harry and grabbed Tonks by the arm, leading her away while she rolled her eyes. "I saw that!" he barked over his shoulder. 


	4. Realization

Chapter 4  
  
Harry walked back to the corner where his family was gathered. The remaining Weasleys were huddled together, holding hands or hugging, sharing in their mutual pain.  
  
Somewhere inside Harry, the glib humor that had been with him all night died. The full weight of his condition came crashing down on him as he watched these people comfort one another. What was he, really? Not dead, for his mind and spirit were very much present. But not alive either, denied even the simple luxury of another person's touch. Better to be away from those he loved, than to watch as they wept with nothing but words to offer them. He watched his sweet Romilly brushing tears away from Hermione's face and struggling to hold her own in check, and Harry longed to wrap his arms around her. Rage took the place of his grief.  
  
_Damn him_, Harry thought. _What more can I lose to him? How many people are miserable tonight because of him? I'll kill him!_ A small voice at the back of his mind answered. _You've already had your chance...twice. And this time you don't get another shot_. Harry sighed, feeling more helpless than he ever had.  
  
Everyone was yawning by now and looking longingly at the cots. Hermione was hardly able to walk, finally being hit by the enormity of the night's losses, so Romy guided her to a bed and covered her with a thick woolly blanket. Hermione let out one more sob and immediately drifted off to sleep. Romy sank into a cot herself and rolled so she was facing away from Harry. He could see her shoulders shaking and he crouched behind her.  
  
"Romy? Can I...?" A loud sniff cut him off.  
  
"Harry, can you just leave? It's so hard to see you like this...it would be better if you'd just go and let me sleep. Maybe in the morning it'll be..."  
  
Harry's heart sank and he quickly left the hall. As he drifted up the stairs, Mrs. Norris stopped in front of him. A familiar flopping sensation went through his stomach.  
  
"Shoo! Damn cat! No! Don't run for Filch, stupid animal! I'm supposed to be here!" The dust colored cat dashed off and Harry was sorely tempted to go after her before she got to Filch. Avoiding that bloody animal had become second nature while he was a student at Hogwarts. He quelled the urge to hide in a closet and continued in the direction of Dumbledore's office.  
  
Before he'd gone another fifty feet, Nearly-Headless Nick popped out of a wall and stopped dead in his tracks, gaping at Harry.  
  
"Harry! You're – "  
  
"Yes, I know. New and improved Glow-in-the-Dark Potter," he interrupted glumly.  
  
Nick let out a little chuckle, but quickly turned serious again.  
  
"Well, this is certainly the last thing I would have expected. I'd have thought you, of all people, would have the courage to go on after it was over." Nick frowned thoughtfully.  
  
"Courage had nothing to do with it," Harry snapped. "I wasn't done here. There were so many things left to do, so much I needed to finish..."  
  
"That's what we all said," Nick countered honestly. "I wasn't still around for selfish reasons, oh no. I was still needed, dammit! But it all came down to the same thing. I was too afraid of the unknown, so I lingered in a place where I'm good for nothing except a conversation piece. It took me two hundred years to realize that, and by then it was too late to undo what I'd done. I'm stuck here for good, Harry, and you will be too if you don't stop lying to yourself."  
  
"Aren't I already stuck here?" Harry glowered at the floor, cut by Nick's candid words.  
  
"It doesn't matter right now. You'll just have to figure out what to do while you're here." Nick tipped his hat to Harry and drifted back through the nearest wall.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. _As if I hadn't had enough reality checks tonight._ He shot through the ceiling and headed for the roof. At least there would be no one to bother him there. He'd go see the headmaster later.  
  
He burst out of the castle into the cool night air. Well, he _assumed_ it was cool. He couldn't feel the wind, or smell the scent of dry leaves and wet earth that came with November. He couldn't taste the crispness of the breeze. It was like being...well, dead.  
  
The autumn sky was as clear as ever, but the stars didn't seem as bright. I guess that's what comes of being deceased. Harry sighed to himself, perching on the edge of the roof. He thought of all the times he had come up here with Ginny.  
  
_"Don't sit on the ledge!" she would say. "You'll fall and kill yourself."_ Part of that had been true, he guessed.  
  
"Don't sit on the ledge, Harry." A voice from behind him broke into his memories. "You'll fall and...well, that's a moot point now, isn't it?" He turned and saw Ginny standing a few yards away, smiling faintly.  
  
"Hey Gin," he said distractedly. She came and sat next to him, peering warily over the edge.  
  
"I think I see why you used to like it so much up here," she declared, swinging her legs over the edge. "It's really nice. You can really _breathe_."  
  
"Breathing isn't really an issue for me anymore," Harry spat bitterly. Ginny raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Oh, so you've moved on to self-pity, have you? I think I liked the guilt better."  
  
"If anyone has a right to feel sorry for himself, it's me." Harry's voice came out sounding sour and childish and he flinched at the tone of it.  
  
"So you messed up. So you let yourself get talked into playing the hero again. So what? There's more that you can do besides sitting on the roof playing your sad little song." Ginny stared at him with challenge in here eyes.  
  
"Oh yeah? Like what? I was only good for my skill with a wand, and now I can't even hold one!" Harry shouted angrily. "I can't do anything to help, so what was the point of staying here?" He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
Ginny treated him to her coldest glare. "You're _smart_, Harry. You always have been, even if you still don't believe it. There's so much that you're capable of that doesn't require a physical body. All you have to do is stop telling yourself that you're useless."  
  
Harry almost smiled at the stark contrast between her words and Nick's.  
  
_Admit that you're useless before it's too late.  
  
Stop feeling sorry for yourself and help where you can._  
  
He could try to help, and if that didn't work out, he'd go back to feeling sorry for himself.  
  
"Go to bed, Gin," Harry said quietly, glancing at her shivering frame. "I'll see you at the meeting." She nodded and got off the ledge quickly.  
  
Harry passed the rest of the night on the roof, wondering if he was permanently incapable of sleeping, or simply not tired. 


	5. Discoveries and Plans

Chapter 5 

The sky lit up in a blood red hue when the sun made its appearance in the early morning hours. Harry sank back into the castle as he heard the first stirrings below him. The Order meeting would start as soon as the sun topped the mountains.

Harry dreaded the stares and sympathy he would get once the Order was assembled. He breezed into Dumbledore's office and was unsurprised to find the elderly headmaster awake and busy at his desk. Dumbledore looked equally unsurprised to see Harry.

"Good morning," he said evenly. Harry just stared.

"What did you expect?" Dumbledore asked after a moment. "Did you really think I wouldn't know? After so many years as Headmaster, it would be a shame for me not to know what goes on in this castle. And quite a bit of what happens outside it, too."

"You knew? That's all you have to say to me? After all the pushing and manipulation you did, that's it? _You knew?_"

"You never cease to impress me, Harry. Yes, I was doing quite a bit of manipulation, though I didn't realize you were aware of it. It was necessary, and I hope you know that." Dumbledore's face looked grave in the early morning light.

"How so?" Harry asked with a calmness he didn't feel.

"Harry, you've done more to thwart Lord Voldemort in the past two years than you realize. If this last battle must be counted a failure then, well, it's in the minority. You've had many triumphs over him in your twenty two years of life, but you can hardly expect me to be surprised when he finally got the upper hand."

"If you expected this to happen, then why were you still pushing me into it?" The calm voice broke and anger like he hadn't felt since fifth year came flooding forward.

"Dear Harry, I'm not omniscient, and I've never claimed to be. I suspected that he would eventually defeat you, but I never thought it would be here, or now, or _this time_. I suppose I'm guilty of trusting too much in your incredible luck, and thinking too highly of you. Death is always a step away in times like these, but no one ever expects the next step to be the last. You've had countless close calls, but you've always come out on top. My greatest mistake, seeing it now, was not truly believing that your luck would ever run out."

"Oh, that's wonderful. _Neither can live while the other survives,_ but surely he wouldn't kill me." Harry lifted an eyebrow, his anger fading into sullen resentment.

"Your strike on him last night was absolutely necessary. Don't ever doubt that. As I said, death is always a possibility. Every man and woman on our side began the night with the knowledge that they might not see the morning. But it needed to be done. It will all be explained at the meeting, which starts momentarily. It's in the Transfiguration classroom. I'll see you there." Peremptorily, he dismissed Harry from the room. Harry left, fuming.

_Well, this is just great,_ Harry thought. _'You've been a great help, thanks for the assistance, and have a nice afterlife? Fantastic, just superb. _He paced the hallway, deciding whether it was worth it to actually attend the meeting. There weren't many things a ghost could do to help, he supposed. He should just skive off and find somewhere comfortable to spend the rest of eternity. But thoughts of Romy, Hermione, the Weasleys and the rest of the Order plagued him. He couldn't just leave them without another word. _Fine,_ he thought. _I'll go, but they'd better not stare. _He felt like a petulant child, but cheerful thoughts were hard to come by this morning. He made his way to the Transfiguration classroom and shuffled to the back, hoping to remain unnoticed.

The Order filed in one by one and sat at the empty desks without a glance to the back of the room. Harry was almost sorry not to hear the whispers and catch the stolen glances that would've come if they'd seen him. At least then he wouldn't feel so insignificant. Romy and Hermione found him at once, however. They came to stand beside him, Romy smiling apologetically. She started to speak, but Harry silenced her and gestured to the front of the room, where Dumbledore was now standing.

"Good morning," he began. The others nodded or mumbled a greeting. "It is a pleasure to see you all here, alive and well, despite the horrors of last night. I doubt there's a one of you who isn't aware of the great losses we sustained, and I applaud your valor in showing up this morning. None of you is bound to us in any lasting way, so if anyone feels that the cost is too great and wishes to leave, please do so now." He scanned the room. No one moved. "Again, I applaud you. This is where the game becomes risky. Our numbers are significantly diminished, so each and every one of you is valuable in your own way. And the danger is doubled. Voldemort has had his victory and he will be drunk with it. His moves will be bolder, and his strikes will be harder. We all must be prepared. Now, will Miss MacAran please come forward?"

Everyone looked to the back of the room at Romy, some of them catching sight of Harry for the first time and gasping. She walked slowly to the front.

"Romilly, can you give us the list of who we lost last night?" Romy nodded and pulled a slip of paper from her pocket. She cleared her throat and blinked rapidly.

"Mundungus Fletcher, Neville Longbottom, Padma Patil, Ernest MacMillan, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minerva McGonagall, Dedalus Diggle, Grawp the giant, Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, Fred Weasley, Ronald Weasley, Severus Snape," she paused for a second and was interrupted by a late arrival.

"I'm not dead yet," Snape said fiercely from the doorway. "Though I'm sure a great number of you would be more than glad to be rid of me." He attempted to smile, but his face was so gaunt and drawn that it became more of a snarl.

"Severus!" Dumbledore boomed. "You had strict orders to stay away from this meeting, my friend. We'd rather not lose you if we don't have to. You should be resting."

"Rest! I've had all the rest I can take. This bloody potion I'm taking won't let me sleep, and I'm going mad lying in that hospital bed. I told you I'd be here, and you're going to need me, so I'm here." He stumbled to a seat in the front row and sat down. Dumbledore gave him one more hard stare and gestured for Romy to continue.

"Harry Potter, Blaise Zabini, Dean Thomas, Luna Lovegood, Lee Jordan, and Amos Diggory." Gasps and sighs punctuated each name she read, and a heavy silence descended on the room when she'd finished. Several people looked back at Harry, startled, as if they hadn't noticed that he was transparent the first time they'd seen him. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Thank you Romilly. Now, will Nymphadora Tonks please come forward?" Dumbledore nodded to the group in the front, and Tonks stood.

"Morning everyone," she began with her usual cheerfulness. "Now, as a few of you knew, Mad-Eye and I hit the headquarters of You-Know-Who's operation. It got a bit sticky, but we came out alright and got some very useful stuff. The first is this." She rummaged in her pocket and pulled out a small ledger. "Mad-Eye and I are fairly certain that it's a complete list of You-Know-Who's followers. Of course, it's heavily enchanted and we haven't been able to crack it yet, but it's only a manner of time. I think Albus wanted George Weasley and Hermione Granger on that detail, am I right?" Dumbledore nodded and Tonks continued.

"_This_ is the big one though," she said triumphantly, pointing her wand into the hallway and pulling something in. It was a small table with a shallow basin on top. "_This_ is Voldemort's Pensieve." Gasps were heard from all corners of the room. "We weren't sure who it belonged to until I...err...went into it and found something very interesting." _Meaning, she tripped and fell into it by accident, _Harry thought with little humor. The Pensieve was far too fascinating.

"Found what?" A voice from the crowd cried out.

"Oh, only the memory of young Tom Riddle opening the Chamber of Secrets. Plus every encounter You-Know-Who has ever had with Harry." Tonks' voice was smug.

"Merlin," Harry whispered. _What a find._

"What the hell good is that going to do us?" the same voice asked.

"Are you joking?" Harry asked loudly, causing all heads to swivel backwards as one. "Do you know what we can do with that? Merlin only knows how many other battles with us are stored in that thing. We can examine each and every one from Voldemort's perspective and see where we went wrong. God, we've never had a bigger advantage!"

"Quite right, Harry. I believe that's going to be your task for a while, examining the contents of the Pensieve," Tonks replied, glancing at Dumbledore for confirmation again. Dumbledore gestured for Tonks to sit and again took control of the meeting.

"Now, you've heard the failures and successes of the Halloween operation. Unfortunately, things are exactly as bleak as they seem. Our numbers are cut by nearly half and we're going to have to go for a more direct link with the Ministry. We lost most of the Aurors in our number, and the Minister is going to be less than pleased with us, but we _must_ gain his cooperation. Voldemort is stronger. We are weaker. That might mean that we must be content to sit back on our duffs and wait for our next opportunity. How many did the Death Eaters lose last night?"

Shouts of "Two on our front" and "We got three of them" and "Six from the group we had" filled the room. Dumbledore laughed.

"One at a time, please. Alastor, what was your count?"

"Nine. All three Lestranges, Dolohov, MacNair, that son of a bitch Nott, and a few others we didn't know." Moody almost smiled and his tone was self-satisfied.

"Very good. Harry?" Harry did a mental count.

"Sixteen at least disabled, ten of those dead for sure."

"Excellent. Romilly?"

"I'm not sure any of them are dead. Six plus Malfoy, all left in full-body binds behind the cabin. If no one came and got them, they might die of exposure soon." Romy shrugged as if she were talking about the death of insects. Well, maybe she was.

"Hagrid?" Dumbledore turned to the giant who, amazingly, Harry hadn't noticed in the room.

"Three, sir. We tried our best, but they were too tricky for us. Got my brother, they did." Hagrid choked out the last five words and howled, burying his face in his hands. The wizard next to him patted his back gingerly, looking uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Hagrid. Severus?"

The count went on and on. Forty-seven was the total; a respectable number, but all told, less than a quarter of the suspected number. That fact alone was enough to rob them of any enthusiasm.

"This is a bigger victory than you might think," Dumbledore commented when people began groaning and looking disheartened. "Yes, we were badly beaten, but Voldemort was beaten too. He lost nearly fifty loyal followers last night. He won't take that risk again." People began smiling again. "We also took two very valuable items from him. That is why his presence was necessary elsewhere, so we could raid his stronghold." Harry finally got it. Voldemort wouldn't leave his hideout for anyone but Harry Potter. It almost seemed worth it now. A Pensieve and a log book...not a bad haul.

"We're almost done here. I know you're all anxious to be with your families, especially those who have lost someone. So here are your assignments for the time being. Severus, _rest._ You'll need your strength and a full recovery for what's in store for you. Tonks and Moody, you know where I want you. Harry, Hermione, Romilly, Ginny, and George, you're assigned to research at the new safe house. I'll escort you there myself. Hagrid, you'll continue your teaching duties here. You'll still have work to do on the side. For clean-up at Grimmauld, I need..."

Harry stopped listening. _Research_, he thought. _Bloody research. Safe house. I guess this is what I get for getting myself killed. Total bloody boredom._


	6. Monsters and Babies

Chapter 6 

The meeting finally ended, and everyone was standing to leave when a great amount of noise reached their ears. Someone was kicking and screaming his way down the hall towards the Transfiguration room. The members of the Order stood still until a head appeared in the doorway. It was Peeves, of course.

"Lookie what I found, Headmaster, sir. Skulking around the front doors, he was. Naughty naughty. Got quite cross when I wouldn't let him in. So I let him sit outside for a while before I brought him to you, sir." Peeves' face displayed a wicked grin as he pulled a bedraggled Draco Malfoy around the corner. A collective gasp filled the room upon recognition. Harry's face burned with anger at seeing his long-time enemy so close.

"Professor," Malfoy said raggedly. "I had to find you...I have information, but you have to keep me safe. It'll be worth it, I swear."

"I'm afraid I'm not even close to believing you, Mr. Malfoy. But please, join me in my office and we'll see what to make of this, shall we?" Dumbledore smiled pleasantly and led the way. The entire Order followed him, naturally.

No one was particularly happy when Dumbledore escorted Malfoy up the stairs to his office and left the rest of them standing in front of the stone gargoyle.

"Harry!" someone whispered. "Go on, see what's going on!" Harry smiled and dashed through the wall and up the stairs. He poked his head through the wall at a discreet height and watched the proceedings.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, what is this vital information you wished to share with me?" Dumbledore was seated at his desk, as per usual, with Malfoy playing the recalcitrant student opposite the Headmaster.

"I can tell you the location of the Dark Lord's headquarters!" Malfoy said loudly, seeming eager to impress.

"Oh?" Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow. "Has it moved since our raid last night? I presume that you left the Dark Lord's followers sometime during the previous evening, so if it had, I doubt you would know about it. Unless, of course, this is a trap and you were brought here by fellow Death Eaters to infiltrate our forces."

Malfoy's face fell. His ticket to safety was expired. He would have to find something better.

"I can tell you where the Dark Lord is planning to attack next!"

"I'm afraid we already know that as well." Dumbledore regarded the younger man with something akin to pity. "Is that all you have to offer?

"Damn you!" Malfoy shrieked. "He'll kill me when he finds me, and there's nothing I can give you in return for protection!"

"My dear Mr. Malfoy, I daresay he already knows where you are, and perhaps there is something you can do for us. I just need to decide what that is."

"He _can't_ find me! You know what he does to deserters? I need a guarantee of protection! I need you to hide me!" Malfoy was on his feet again, nearly shrieking in his fear.

"Please sit down. Why don't you tell me why it is that you've deserted him?"

Malfoy's face flushed bright red. "I'd rather not say," he mumbled.

"I can hardly trust your change of heart if I don't understand it. And if I don't trust you, then there is no way I can keep you here."

"Fine!" Malfoy snarled. "But this stays between you and me."

Harry came close to laughing. He had a feeling he was about to hear something really good.

"Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore Nott, and I were assigned to Muggle torture last night. You know the routine...cause as much havoc and damage as possible, get people really frightened. Anyway, we were at this Muggle hospital, chasing people around, hanging them upside-down by their knickers, things like that, when we came across this room that was just _full_ of babies." Dumbledore's eyes widened a bit but he gestured for Malfoy to go on.

"So Nott goes in there and starts making a whole lot of noise, and all the babies start crying. He was levitating them up to the ceiling, spinning them around; all the while they're screaming their little heads off. It made me sick. I have a son, you know." Again Dumbledore looked surprised. "Yeah, he's almost a year old and these babies all looked like he did when he was born. I said to Nott, 'They're just _babies,_' and he said, 'They're Muggles, Draco.' I just stood there. He said, 'Draco, what are Muggles for?' I responded with what I'd always been told. 'Wizard sport.' 'Exactly,' he said. 'So get out your wand and have some fun.' But I couldn't. I picked up a little boy with blonde hair, just like my son, and Nott started laughing. 'Put the little beast down, Draco. You look ridiculous.' He stopped fooling around and came over to me. 'Draco, what are you doing?' I said, 'I can't hurt babies, Theo. It doesn't matter if they're Muggles. They're not even old enough to beg for mercy. This is _wrong.'_" At this, tears sprang from Malfoy's eyes. Harry would've laughed if the situation hadn't been so lacking in humor.

Malfoy took a staggered breath and finished his story. "I put the baby down...and I knocked Theo out with a Reductor curse. I tied him up so he couldn't hurt those defenseless little babies anymore. And then I ran." He looked up at Dumbledore and let out a deep sigh. "I can't...associate with those people anymore. I don't expect a grand reception here, but at least there's no innocents being tortured here."

The Headmaster stood and faced the windows behind him, looking pensive. Harry withdrew his head from the wall and went back to the hallway.

"What happened?" the gathered group asked.

"Dumbledore's going to let him stay," Harry said with certainty.

"You're kidding!" several people shouted. "Lucius Malfoy's son? He's a monster!"

Harry smiled. "Not as much as you'd suppose. There's some humanity left in him, I think." With that perplexing statement, Harry took off down the corridor, smiling smugly. _Let them think about that for a while, _he said to himself.


	7. Safety and Family Meetings

Disclaimer: These characters and settings belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. Romilly MacAran is borrowed from Marion Zimmer Bradley's novel "Hawkmistress!" in name only. I claim no rights to them, and will make no profit from the writing of this story.

Author's Note: Apologies in advance for the horrid portrayal of Hagrid's accent. Try as I might, I can't get it quite perfect (or even relatively close).

**Chapter Seven**

Harry heard two sets of footsteps following him after he strode purposefully away from the group gathered at the stone gargoyle. One set of large, clomping steps that could be heard throughout the castle, and a set of small, quick feet in hard boots. Hagrid and Romilly. Harry paused and waited for them to catch up after he had rounded the first corner.

Hagrid was the first around the bend, breaking his long strides too late to avoid walking through Harry's spectral body. Romy appeared a second later.

"Hagrid," Harry began, resisting the instinct to extend his hand. That was a habit he would have to break himself of quickly. "I'm so sorry about Grawp." That sentence was grossly inadequate, but Harry couldn't find words strong enough to express his emotion at Hagrid's loss.

"Don' be," Hagrid argued immediately. "He went out like a hero, an' I'm proud o' him. Besides, this is war. We got no time teh go aroun' feelin' sorry every time someone dies. We miss 'em, but we keep goin', because tha's what we have teh do." A single tear rolled into the big man's beard, but he kept his composure. Romy patted his arm then turned her attention to Harry.

"What happened with Malfoy?" she demanded.

"I told you. Dumbledore's going to let him stay."

"But why?"

"I'm sure Dumbledore has his reasons, and I'm equally certain that Malfoy will have his uses. I really can't say any more." Romy seemed to accept this. She addressed Hagrid next.

"Rubeus, would you excuse us for a few minutes? I'd like to talk to Harry alone." She had only met Hagrid a few months ago, but he was quite taken with her. She insisted on calling him by his first name, protesting that his surname sounded too crude for such a kind and gentle man. He blushed every time she spoke directly to him.

"Yeah, you two probably got a lot teh talk about." He nodded and walked away.

"Erm…" Harry felt strangely guilty around Romy, as if he'd forgotten their anniversary, or accidentally bought her lilacs (which she was allergic to). He wondered if ordinary blokes got in trouble with their girlfriends when they died. "Uh…fancy a walk?" he offered when he couldn't think of anything else.

She nodded and started off down the hall at a slow pace. Harry fell into step with her and neither one spoke for a moment.

"Romy," he said finally, at the same time that she said "Harry." They both grinned and he gestured for her to go first.

"I'm sorry for how I was last night," she began unsteadily. "It's not your fault that all this happened…"

"Yes it bloody is!" he argued darkly.

"No. It's not. You only did what you had to do, and you did everything you _could_ do to make this work. If you couldn't do it, then there's no way it could've been done. I was wrong to be angry with you, and I'm not anymore. Now, what were you going to say?"

"I was going to say I was sorry that I messed everything up," Harry said quietly, feeling sheepish. "But I suppose that's a moot point now."

"Quite," was her only response.

Another long silence fell over them as they kept walking. Romy broke it when they passed a display case holding Godric Gryffindor's sword.

"I know you're still feeling guilty, Harry, but you've no cause to. Failing once out of a hundred times is not really failing at all. Ginny was telling me about the Chamber of Secrets this morning…"

"Poor girl," Harry broke in sadly. "To lose your mum and dad, two brothers, your boyfriend, and an ex-boyfriend all in one night…"

"Her boyfriend?" Romy looked surprised.

"Neville. They'd been together almost a year, though he'd fancied her since fourth year." Harry's heart went out to Neville's gran too. The poor old woman had no one now.

"Oh." That one syllable held an enormous amount of grief. "I didn't know about them. Who was the ex that she lost?"

"Me, of course. You didn't know that we had dated?" Harry hoped that the subject of old girlfriends wouldn't flare up Romy's temper again.

"I don't think I did. When was this?" She looked calm enough…

"At Hogwarts, my sixth year and part of seventh."

"How did you ever manage to let her go? She's such a wonderful girl," Romy said with a hint of a smile. Harry felt like he was taking an exam as he formulated an answer.

"Well, things weren't really meant to be between us, I suppose. I put her entire family in danger simply by being close to them, so after Mr. Weasley was attacked, I left Hogwarts and cut contact with all of the Weasleys for a few months. When everything was over, and Voldemort was gone, Ginny and I didn't get back together. It wasn't that we didn't want to, it just…didn't seem right," he finished lamely. Romy smiled, apparently satisfied with the answer he gave. Harry wondered briefly if she had been expecting to hear some awful story about him cheating on Ginny or something like that.

"We'd better get back," she suggested. "Dumbledore will be wanting to take us to the safe house."

They retraced their steps back to the headmaster's office and found that the crowd had dispersed and Dumbledore was waiting for them. Hermione, Ginny, George, and Malfoy were waiting with him.

"Potter," Malfoy sputtered upon catching sight of his old school enemy. "Had a spot of bother, did you?" A ghost of his once-constant sneer flickered through his features, but Dumbledore chose that moment to clear his throat. Malfoy looked over his shoulder at the old professor and seemed to remember that his situation was precarious at best. He averted his eyes to the floor and didn't say another word. Dumbledore cleared his throat again.

"Good of you two to join us. We were just off to the new safe house. Mr. Malfoy, you will be blindfolded during the journey, until we are safely inside the premises. I will emphasize the fact that _none of you_ will know the location of the safe house. It is Unplottable, and the surrounding area is enchanted to disguise itself. We will take a Portkey there, as we cannot Apparate. Are you all ready? Do you have everything you brought with you?" Six heads nodded and Dumbledore opened the door into his office. He presented them with a tattered old scarf and they each grabbed hold of it.

"Professor, will this…" Harry had been about to say 'Will this work for ghosts?' when he felt a familiar jerk behind his navel and the office melted away. _I guess it does work for ghosts._ He wondered how that was, considering that he couldn't even really touch the Portkey, but that wasn't really important. By the time he had finished that thought, they were plunking down onto the floor of the safe house. It was the easiest Portkey landing Harry had ever had. He just glided halfway through the floor and floated back out. No painful thud, no bruises, no collisions. Maybe being dead did have its advantages.

After everyone had picked themselves up, Dumbledore took them on a tour of the house. It was quite ordinary in every way, except for the fact that the scenery outside was different from every window. Harry wondered what it would look like if they went outside. The house was large, with two floors and a dodgy looking attic. It had a library and what looked like a laboratory in the basement. The rooms were comfortably furnished but everything gave the impression of disuse. Harry suspected that Ginny would spend the first week of their stay cleaning.

When they had finished their tour, Dumbledore led them back into a small study on the first floor and closed the doors behind them. There, he gestured for the six of them to gather around the desk and pulled something out of his pocket, whispering a few words. The tiny items grew until they were recognizable as the stolen ledger and Pensieve. He placed them on the desk and pulled his wand out. Whatever he was about to do, it was interrupted when Malfoy let out a yelp and squirmed away from the desk.

"What is it, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked evenly.

"That…that book! How did you get that?" Draco sounded panicky and breathless. He was staring at the ledger as if it would jump off the table and devour him where he stood.

"That's irrelevant. Can you tell us about it?" Dumbledore started at the young Death Eater with detached interest. Malfoy shuddered involuntarily as his eyes flicked back and forth between the book and Professor Dumbledore's face.

"It's a ledger," he said in the same high, frightened voice. Dumbledore nodded and twirled a finger to keep Malfoy going. "It's a complete list of all the active, loyal Death Eaters in Great Britain. We…we had to sign our names in the book before we would be trusted. In blood, ours and…_his._ It knows what's in your heart. Your name fades away if you betray him. That's how he always…_knows._" Malfoy was steadily backing farther and farther away from the book as he spoke, a look of intense fear growing on his face. Everyone else stepped back too, as if sensing Malfoy's panic and not wanting to get caught in the crossfire if that book ended up being dangerous.

"How do we access this information? Every time we've opened it, it was blank," Dumbledore explained, as if to a child. Malfoy's eyes darted back to the headmaster's face and he seemed to snap out of his hysteria.

"You can't. It takes a loyal Death Eater to look in that book. I can't even touch it. If I touch it, he'll find me and this place won't be safe anymore. Please, can you put it away?" The high, agitated voice was back and he looked on the verge of fainting. Dumbledore nodded once and shrank the book again so it would fit back in his pocket. The tension visibly reduced in Malfoy's face.

"Harry, I want you to concentrate on reviewing the memories in this Pensieve," Dumbledore said after a long pause. "Write down anything that might be useful. Romilly, you're to assist Harry with that task. Hermione and Ginny, I have an important task for you that I will explain after you're all settled in. George, I want you to keep an eye on Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore led them out of the study and the dispersed to different rooms, carrying their meager belongings up the stairs.

Harry and Romy settled into a small bedroom towards the back of the house. It had one double bed, a chest of drawers, and a tiny student's desk. The floor was bare and dusty, but Romy made quick work of cleaning up with a powerful _Scourgify_ spell. The room looked much cozier without all the menacing dust bunnies on the floor and bed.

Harry didn't look at the bed. It was too much a reminder of how much he missed his physical body. He couldn't even hold his fianceé as they were falling asleep. Romy seemed to be thinking the same thing. They both hurried out of the room without a word to each other.

Soon, everyone had gathered back into the small kitchen downstairs. Ginny and George were huddled together again, and Hermione was sitting next to Malfoy, both of them looking very uncomfortable. Harry almost smiled at the way Malfoy was so obviously trying not to look at anyone. Romy sat between Hermione and Ginny. They were all still sitting quietly when the door opened and Dumbledore came through with someone else behind him. Harry caught a flash of red hair as Dumbledore's companion stepped into the light.

Percy Weasley. The world's number one git.

Harry's eyes flew to where George and Ginny were sitting. They both had blank looks on their faces, as if they were reserving welcome for their older brother until he had proven himself again.

"There you two are," he said by way of a greeting. "I've been trying to get a hold of someone all morning. I Flooed to the Burrow, but no one was there. I suppose Dad's at the Ministry, trying to help out, as if he could do anything in his position. Is Fred taking care of that ridiculous joke shop? It must've sustained some…" he was cut off by a collective gasp from everyone in the room, besides Malfoy. "What? What's wrong?"

"Didn't you look at the clock?" Ginny choked out.

"The clock? You mean the clock at the Burrow? No, I didn't think to…"

"They're dead, you fucking idiot! Do you hear me? _They're fucking dead!"_ Ginny shrieked, springing from her chair and pounding a fist on the table. Percy looked stricken.

"Who's dead?" he asked in a very small voice.

"Mum. Dad. Ron. Fred," George said hollowly. He wasn't looking at his brother and his face showed no emotion at all. Ginny, however, flew at Percy and began beating him across the chest with tiny fists.

"They died, and you couldn't be bothered to find out where they were! You coward, you fucking coward, hiding in your flat until it all blew over and then it was too late! Too late for Mum and Dad and two of your brothers! What kind of person are you? You unbelievable bastard! Why did you come here now? You don't give a shit about us! Why don't you go back to your flat and your fucking important job at the Ministry and leave us alone?" At this, she collapsed on the floor and sobbed into the tiles. Hermione rushed to her and Ginny buried her face in Hermione's lap. Harry could barely watch as they cried together.

Percy just stared at her with unbelieving eyes. Ginny's sobs quieted and he looked up and realized that his brother was standing in front of him with a murderous look on his face.

George's fist connected with Percy's chin at lightning speed, and Percy crashed to the floor. George gave one disgusted look to his unconscious brother and stalked from the room, leaving everyone else gaping at his back.

Another Author's Note: After this chapter, I'm going to be skipping a lot of time. This story is probably going to span a good 20 years, so there's not going to be a lot of detail in the times that I skip. Thanks to all who reviewed it, and I promise to be a bit better about posting from now on. scout's honor


	8. Searches and Spells

**Disclaimer: **The character and settings in this story are the property of people other than me. Mostly JK Rowling and her publishers. The story is published with no monetary gain by the author.

**Five months later**

It was four in the morning and Harry was wide awake. He'd discovered that he _could_ sleep; it just took a lot of effort and usually wasn't worth it. Besides, if he had to haunt a place, the safe house wasn't a bad place for it. It was full of interesting objects and hidden rooms. With further exploration, Harry had begun to suspect that they were staying in Dumbledore's childhood home. The attic was full of photographs and paintings of wizards and witches who bore a striking resemblance to the old headmaster. He had even found a box of photos that he could've sworn were Albus Dumbledore's baby pictures. The baby in the pictures was chubby and lively, always wearing a pointed knit cap and a thick pair of socks, if nothing else. Harry wondered if Dumbledore would be embarrassed to discover that those pictures had been found.

Other than digging through the house, there were a million things that Harry could do at night when the rest of the house was sleeping. He had had Romy order him a Quotations Quill, and he spent many hours dictating to the fast-moving quill. He wrote down everything he could remember from his last night alive. He documented every meeting he'd had with Voldemort from both his perspective and Voldemort's, with the help of the Pensieve. Finally, when he ran out of important things to write about, he began recording everything he could think of about being a ghost. He had a list of things he could and couldn't do, in the order that he encountered them.

**Can:**

Sleep

Do magic (limited)

Fly

Walk through walls

Whistle

Glow

Effectively sneak up on people

Cry

**Can't:**

Touch anything

Smell (not entirely true – can smell rotten things)

Taste

Use the toilet

Hold a wand

Turn the bloody pages of a book

Eat

Drink

Smoke

Kiss

Hug

Have s -Be with Romy

Shower

Change clothes

Be naked

Grow more hair

See without my glasses (Still! Dammit!)

Gain or lose weight

Hit people (Malfoy is lucky)

Breathe (correction – can, don't have to)

Cook (never could, but worth noting that I have an excuse now)

Clean

The "can't" list was depressingly longer than the "can" list. Harry figured that he might write a book on being a ghost one day. He thought it might be helpful to other new ghosts, and to people who were likely to stay behind when they died. If they knew how awful it was, they might consider giving the afterlife a try instead.

Harry added a few more things to his lists and turned off the tiny desk lamp. He did most of his writing around this time of night, in the small room he shared with Romilly. He hadn't slept in the same bed with her since before Halloween, for fear that she might roll over in her sleep and wake up feeling like she'd been drenched in ice water. When he did sleep, he slept on the floor beside her bed. But most nights, he just watched her sleep. She looked like an angel in the moonlight.

He had been afraid, when they first found out that she was pregnant, that he would be forced to tell her that she looked beautiful even when her face was swelled up and she cried all the time. That wasn't the case. She _did_ look beautiful, even now in the eighth month of her pregnancy. Her face hadn't swelled, nor had her feet. Any weight that she had gained was situated firmly in her growing belly and from the neck up, she looked the same as she always had. Possibly better. She managed to be optimistic and cheerful through the past five months, no matter what happened or how upset she could've been. She said that her being upset wasn't good for the baby, and she wanted him to come into a happy home and a beautiful world.

_Him._ She always referred to the baby as a boy, though she couldn't be sure. Hermione had offered to do a spell that would reveal the gender of the baby, but both Harry and Romy had refused. Harry was sure it was a girl, but Romy couldn't be discouraged. It was a boy, she insisted, and in a month they would find out who was right. George and Ginny had a bet going. Neither would say who they had wagered on, but Harry got the impression that the bet was worth a lot of money.

It was nice, all of them living together. Sometimes, it was almost like nothing big had happened. They would joke, and laugh, and enjoy each other's company for the most part. And then it would happen. Hermione would be looking up a rare plant for her potions and accidentally say something like "I should owl Neville and see if he has it". Or someone would mention their school years, and start a sentence with "George, remember when you and Fred…". Sometimes Harry would find himself walking through the house looking for Ron. It seemed so natural for his best friend to be there. They had spent most of their lives together. Hermione was there, so were Ginny and George. Harry found himself asking Hermione where Ron was before he remembered. At any of these slips, laughter died and everyone's eyes pointed to the floor. It would be days before things would go back to normal.

Malfoy put a damper on everything as well. He filled the house with his sullen presence and killed any high spirits just by walking into a room. The Mark on his arm served as a reminder of everything that had gone wrong. Harry flinched every time he saw it. It was a full month before Malfoy would willingly come out of the room he had been given. He ate his meals at his desk and emerged only a few times a day to go to the bathroom and shower. When he finally began appearing at dinner and spending time in the sitting room, he didn't speak. A cursory yes and no from time to time, but no more. It was early February before he participated in any conversation.

Romilly stirred in the bed and groaned a little, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. She awoke and sat up in bed, gripping her belly tight.

"What's wrong?" Harry whispered. Romy gasped a little, not awake enough to have realized that he was in the room.

"Nothing," she mumbled in a very sleepy voice. "Nothing wrong." A smile spread across her face as she fanned her hands out on her stomach. She looked up at Harry and her eyes were filled with an incredible joy. She beckoned him over.

"He's kicking, love. He's kicking me from the inside." Her voice was still slow and cloudy, but it was full of wonder. "Harry, you have to feel this. Here, put your hand right here." She reached for Harry's hand and he sprung back, feeling his eyes sting and watching comprehension dawn across Romy's face. He couldn't feel the baby kicking. He would never feel it. He would never hold his child. He backed out of the room with horror on his every feature. He couldn't face his pregnant fianceé just then.

"**_Hermione!"_** he screamed when he reached the hallway. He yelled again and again until doors began opening all over the house. Hermione appeared in the hall with her hair mussed and wearing only a blue cotton dressing gown.

"What is it, Harry? What's happened? What's wrong?" she asked in a voice too clear for someone who'd only just woken up. That was the way their lives were. If someone screamed in the middle of the night, something awful had happened.

"Hermione, you have to help me," he pleaded desperately as Ginny, George, and Malfoy stopped behind Hermione, all looking frightened. "You have to help me. I need to…" he stopped and looked around. He felt very naked all of a sudden. He was aware that tears were pouring down his face, but they left no mark when they dripped onto his shirt and onto the rug. "You can go back to bed," he said weakly to the group behind Hermione. "This doesn't concern you." They looked surprised and a little relieved, but dutifully went back to their rooms.

"Hermione," he gasped, after the last door had shut and the lights faded out. "Hermione, I need you to make me a spell."

"Harry, what is this about? What kind of spell? It's four in the morning!" She had lost the panicked alertness of a moment before and now simply looked annoyed.

"The baby, 'Mione. I want to touch my baby!"

"What? You woke me up at four in the morning to talk about…"

"No, this is important. He's kicking, and I can't feel it." Repressed sobs racked Harry's body, but he choked the words out around them. "I won't be able to hold him when he cries, or give him a bottle at two in the morning, or get him dressed for his trip to Hogwarts, or clean him up when he crashes his broomstick, or…" Harry couldn't continue. He wept with his entire being, feeling all of his hopes and fond dreams and possibilities drain out of his body with the tears. Had he looked up, he would've seen tears in Hermione's eyes as well, but he couldn't look at her. For a moment, he allowed himself to dwell on everything he had lost on Halloween, and it was dreadful.

His sobs subsided when Hermione's voice broke in. "I'll see what I can do," she said briskly, and returned to her room without another word. He was picking himself up off the floor when she re-emerged, fully dressed and groomed. He stared for a moment as she began to walk past him.

"I didn't mean you had to do it now!" he protested, suddenly feeling very selfish and guilty.

"I'm awake now, aren't I?" He shrugged in response.

"This is going to be a complicated spell, and I only have a month to do it, right?" She looked very cross now. He nodded. "Then I'd better get to it. I'll let you know if I need any help." With that, she quietly walked down the stairs into the study.

Hermione spent hours a day locked away in the study, working on the spell for Harry. Dumbledore hadn't given her anything to work on for over a month, so she seemed to be welcoming the assignment. The study door would open every once in a while and everyone would duck. They'd learned to do that the first day of Hermione's work when the door had opened and suddenly a book had come soaring down the stairs and into the study. It had hit Malfoy on the back of the head and knocked him out of his chair, too.

Harry often caught himself staring at the study door, praying desperately that Hermione was having some luck with the spell. It was the most important thing in the world to him now. Fortunately, there was enough going on to distract him from spending too much time brooding.

People came in and out of the house daily. Most were survivors of different battles. Others were informants whose double-lives had been discovered by Voldemort and his followers. A few were there just for a few days rest before they rejoined the war. But all of them had interesting stories to tell about what was going on in the outside world. The permanent occupants of the safe house were almost completely cut off from the rest of the world. Their fireplace wasn't connected to the Floo network, and owl's couldn't reach the house. Dumbledore took a Portkey to visit them at least once a week, but he wasn't very good at sharing relevant information.

Mostly, the stories these visitors told were happy. Such and such Death Eater had been killed, so and so had found such and such information, so many Muggles had been rescued. Harry tried to focus on these events rather than the more depressing news of death in the Order or towns taken over by Voldemort's forces.

Harry was chatting forcedly with Snape one afternoon when Hermione burst out of the study with a wild look in her eyes. Her gaze landed on Snape and she went into a long stream of barely distinguishable words. Harry could never understand her when she spoke so quickly.

"Professor Snape! I was hoping you'd still be here! Can you give me your opinion on something? I'm sure Harry told you what I'm trying to do here, and I could really use some help for a moment. Yes? You're sure? I wouldn't be taking too much of your time? Excellent!" They vanished into the study leaving Harry sitting stunned in an armchair. Had she found something? Would it work? He paced in front of the study door until it opened again. It caught him by surprise and Hermione walked right through him.

"Oosh…Harry, don't do that! Brrr, it's like walking in dry ice!"

"What's dry ice?" Snape asked, looking curious.

"Never mind. Harry, I want to talk to you about this project. Sit down for a moment?" Harry nodded mutely and sank back into his armchair. Hermione sat down opposite him and Snape left the room.

"Harry, I think I have a spell that will work for you," she began. Harry jumped up and lunged for her, catching himself a split second before he would've fallen straight through her and her chair. He composed himself and tried to pretend that he hadn't forgotten his inability to hug.

Hermione cleared her throat and continued. "I'm almost positive that this spell will make you tangible for a short period of time. And I'm nearly certain that it will only work once. Now, I need to ask you this – do you want me to test the spell on you now, in case it doesn't work, or do you want to wait until the baby is born and try it then?" Harry's face fell. How could he make a decision like that? On the one hand, he didn't want to waste his one chance at being tangible, but on the other hand, he didn't want to discover that the spell didn't work as his baby was being born. This was a tough question, to be sure.

"I'll wait," he said finally.


	9. Birth and Blessing

**April 25th**

The baby was coming. Harry had always laughed at the men in movies who paced outside the door while their babies were being delievered, but he understood it now. There was nothing he could do for Romy at the moment. She couldn't even hold her hand until Hermione finished preparing the spell. He wished he had a cigarette, but he wouldn't be able to do anything with it even if he had one. (AN: Come on, did we ever doubt that Harry would pick up smoking? It's a great stress-reliever, and if anyone needs that, it's Harry!)

Ginny would be delivering the baby. She had studied with a midwife twice a week since they had arrived at the safe house, leaving early in the morning by Portkey with an escort in tow and returning late at night, looking exhausted. Strenuous as it was, she really was looking forward to the birthing.

Romy had gone into labor at eight that morning. It was now past noon and Harry was frantic. Hermione had been preparing the spell since Romy had woken everyone up. Harry hoped that it would be ready soon. He didn't think he could stand any more waiting.

As if in response to his thoughts, Hermione's voice drifted up the stairs. "Harry! It's ready. Come down to the study!" Harry's heart sprung into his throat and he flew down the stairs and through the wall of the study. Hermione had enough vials and urns lined up on the desk to serve a small army. She picked one up as Harry entered the room.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked, waving it at him. He stared at her as if to say that he didn't appreciate a pop quiz just then.

"It's powdered moonstone mixed into nettle tea, basically."

"Ah. That would've been my next guess, right after 'I don't give a damn!'" he snapped. Hermione huffed a little and set the vial down.

"You're going to have to drink it," she snapped back. "This is very elemental magic, and we have to get every part of it exactly right if we want this to work."

"Drink it? I can't drink anything. I can't even lift a glass." He hadn't realized how edgy he was until just then. Every part of him was straining itself, wanting to be upstairs with Romy.

"You'll be able to drink it after this." She raised her wand and did a few complex movements with it, then pointed it directly at Harry's chest. "_Permissum aer exsisto viscus , permissum unda exsisto ferrum_," she whispered. She moved her wand a bit more and a stream of colored lights wove out of it. They hit Harry's chest and spread over his entire body. It was like being sewn together at his joints and pulled apart at the same time. He couldn't move.

"Here," Hermione said, putting down her wand and picking up the vial. "Swallow all of this." She tipped the vial up to Harry's lips and he felt the liquid pouring into his mouth and down his throat. He gagged a little. It tasted horrible and felt terribly hot going down. It was a moment before the realization struck him. He could taste the potion. Liquid went in his mouth and didn't leak out of his chin. Unfortunately, he still couldn't move, so his first instinct to hug this brilliant woman in front of him had to be restrained.

Sensations poured through his body and every nerve tingled like it was suddenly waking up after being cramped for hours. Harry felt his mouth drop open as a breeze came in through the open window and danced across his face. He could _feel_ it.

"Harry? Are you alright? Is it working?" Hermione's voice was concerned and a little breathy. Harry had to struggle to make his voice work.

"It's…I…" he stuttered. "I think…it's…..YES!" his voice exploded from his throat, joyful and exhilarated. The tingling sensation was gone from his body, but there was still sensation. He could feel the smooth cotton of the jeans he was wearing against his legs. He could feel the cuffs of his shirt brushing on his wrists. His paralysis seemed to be ending. He took one tentative step and then threw himself at Hermione, scooping her up and swinging her in the air. She laughed with relief and kissed Harry on the cheek. He put her down and grabbed both of her hands in his, relishing the feel of her smooth skin under his. He could _feel_!

He tried speaking, but all that would come out was "Thank you" over and over and over again. Hermione blushed and pulled him out of the study. After six months of being intangible, he forgot to steer clear of the doorjamb and ended up banging his head sharply. Hermione snickered and pushed him ahead of her up the stairs.

Suddenly, Harry was very nervous. He felt awkward in his own body, clumsy and too incompetent for even the simple task of opening a door. It made sense, he thought, seeing as he'd spent six months drifting through walls and such. Still, he was afraid to go into Romy's room. He paused at the door and Hermione almost ran into him.

"What are you doing? Go in!" She gave him a puzzled look as he still hesitated. But a sharp cry sounded through the walls and Harry rushed in, all at once dying to see Romy and touch her face and…

He hadn't been expecting the sight that greeted him as he burst through the door. Romy lay on the double bed, pale and drenched in sweat. Her legs were propped up and spread open, and there was a small amount of blood on the white sheets. Romy was gripping Ginny's hands tight and whimpering a little.

"Not long now, dear. Just a little longer, and…look, Harry's here!" Ginny's face lit up and she released Romy's hands, ushering Harry over to sit by his fianceé. He perched on the edge of the bed and stroked her face, feeling more content than he had in ages.

"Hey, love," he said quietly, leaning over and kissing her brow. "How're you doing?" She smiled weakly and clasped his hands in both of hers.

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to tell you I hate you for doing this to me?" Harry smiled softly and put her hands to his lips.

"If you want. Technically, I _did_ do this to you…" he grinned wickedly and winked. Her face mirrored his expression.

"Pity the spell hadn't been invented two months ago," she said with a coy smile. "I assume that every _part_ of you is back and working properly." Harry forgot that there were other people present in the room and let all of the yearning he'd felt in the past six months flow into one kiss. It went on until Ginny cleared her throat.

"Erm…Harry? Can you go stand…over there please? I need to check on Romy…" she seemed very embarrassed to break them up. Harry complied and stood next to Hermione near the door. He spoke to her quietly.

"How long is this spell supposed to last? Will it still be working if this whole thing takes another…say, four hours?" Hermione nodded quickly.

"It should work for at least twelve hours. I'm not sure past there, but you should be ok until midnight at the very earliest." Harry nodded gratefully. He had time enough.

Turned out he needed all the time he could get. After an hour, things were no farther along. Harry went down to the kitchen and found his favorite kind of tea in the cupboard, savoring the taste of it with the understanding that it might be his last cup of tea ever. There were chocolate biscuits in the pantry and he helped himself to the entire package.

Oddly enough, he still looked like a ghost. There was no visible change at all. He had been shocked when he spotted himself in the mirror after leaving Romilly's room. He could still see through himself.

Thank goodness he couldn't see his food going down. That might've taken all the enjoyment out of it.

Harry didn't want to go back into the room. As much as he wanted to be around Romy, there was still nothing he could do. Ginny kept shooing him away from the bed and she obviously didn't need his help, so he stayed down in the kitchen for another hour. Eventually, Hermione joined him.

"How's she doing?" he asked in a weak tone.

"Great, just great. It's taking a little longer than expected, but Ginny really knows what she's doing, and everything is going fine."

"I never expected Ginny to get into that kind of thing, did you?" Harry smiled, thinking of all the times he and Ginny had talked about what they were going to be when they left Hogwarts. He had wanted to be an Auror for as long as he could remember, but Ginny had always expressed an interest in teaching or working at the Ministry.

Healing was the last profession he would've guessed Ginny would take a liking to. When he had left Hogwarts, Harry had gone straight into Auror training, despite missing three months of school. Ginny had stayed as a teaching assistant for old Professor Flitwick for a year. She had decided it wasn't for her and gone to help her mother out at home. Before she could really pick a profession, Voldemort had risen again and the wizarding world had been plunged into war once again.

"It comes naturally to her," Hermione was saying. "She's doing so well with Romy right now, keeping her calm and giving her potions for the pain and everything. It's so weird to see Ginny acting so grown up."

"She _is_ grown up," Harry commented. "She's almost twenty-two now. God, that means Ron would've been…" He stopped and flinched at his own slip. But Hermione smiled.

"Ron would've turned twenty-three last month. It's ok, Harry. We can't keep talking like he and Neville and Fred and everybody never even existed. It's alright to talk about them. Sure, it's hard to miss them so much, but talking sometimes makes it easier." She smiled again, achingly sad but not as bleak a smile as she used to get when Ron was mentioned. Harry understood what she meant, but it was hard to get rid of the hollow feeling that crept through his insides when he thought of his best friend.

"Harry!" a voice called from upstairs. Harry stood up so fast that his chair fell over. "It's time! Get your arse up here!" Ginny's voice was excited and exhausted at the same time. Harry sprinted up the stairs.

Ginny was bent over with her hands on Romy's legs. Harry rushed over and grabbed Romy's hands.

"Keep pushing, Romy. You can do it. Just another couple pushes and the baby will be born. Keep going, that's it…" Ginny chanted a soothing chorus of encouragement as Harry stared into the face of his beloved. Her eyes met his and he could see the concentration and the strain in the creases around her eyes. "Come on, Romy! Push!" Ginny called.

Romy pushed and suddenly the strain left her face. Ginny was saying something in an ecstatic voice, but Harry only saw Romy. Her face sagged and her eyes shut as she let out an enormous sigh.

"Yes!" Ginny cried. "It's a boy!" Harry's head whipped around and he stared at the tiny, bloody form in Ginny's hands. He turned back to Romy.

"A boy, love. Our son," he choked out. Romy's eyes opened and she smiled the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. _A boy._ He kissed her quickly and hurried over to stand next to Ginny as she cleaned the baby and wrapped him in a soft blue blanket. Harry held out his hands eagerly. Ginny beamed as she placed his son in his arms.

He was so light, so tiny. Harry was afraid he would drop the perfect little boy in his arms, and he sat quickly in the desk chair. A mottled, red face gazed up at him with bleary eyes and Harry felt his own eyes prickling. Little tufts of black hair stuck out from the baby's head. Harry feathered his hands over the boy's head, careful to avoid touching the soft spot. He kissed his son's face and stood again, going back to the bed and placing the baby in Romy's waiting arms. She looked worn out, but she sat up anyway and cradled her son, looking up at Harry.

"What are we going to name him?" she asked in a sleepy voice.

"You mean you haven't picked a name yet?" Ginny piped from her position at the end of the bed.

"No, we thought we'd meet him first, and then pick a name that fit," Romy explained.

"What do you think?" Harry asked her.

"James," she said at once. "Ronald. Arthur. Neville. Frederick."

Harry heard three gasps from behind him. Hermione and George had come in without him noticing. He ignored them and looked back to his family.

"James Ronald Arthur Neville Frederick Potter?"

Romy nodded. "For two grandfathers and three uncles that he'll never meet." Her eyes clouded a little.

Harry let out a small laugh. "That's a lot of name for someone so tiny."

"He'll grow into it. It's a lot to live up to, but he'll do it. He'll make them proud." Harry couldn't tell who it was who had burst into tears, but he sympathized. He felt like crying himself. He held his hands out for the baby again.

"James," he murmured into the baby's hair. He would have to remember to thank Hermione again. She had given him more than she could imagine. He would remember this moment forever.

"Oh good, I haven't arrived too early," said a voice from the doorway. Dumbledore strolled in and made a beeline for Harry and little James. "I heard a rumor that there was something exciting happening here today."

"Professor," Harry said, extending his hand. Dumbledore shook it with no sign of surprise at Harry's new ability to make contact with other people. The headmaster smiled and the familiar twinkle appeared in his eyes as he gazed at the newborn in Harry's arms.

"May I?" he asked, holding out his arms. Harry nodded and gingerly handed the baby to Dumbledore. "I think there is a service I may provide for your child, if you allow it." Dumbledore looked at Romy for confirmation and she nodded. Harry was beyond confused. He stood and looked to Hermione for help.

"A blessing," she whispered as Dumbledore cradled the baby in one arm and raised his other hand over the tiny face. "Most wizard babies get them when they're born. Only a very powerful wizard can do it. I'm pretty sure Dumbledore did yours too." She jerked her head to tell Harry to pay attention.

Dumbledore moved his hand slowly over little James' head. The headmaster's eyes closed as blue light twinkled from his fingers and fell to rest on the baby's face. Dumbledore stroked James' cheeks and forehead until the baby's entire face was glowing with sparkling blue glimmers, and finally the old man spoke.

"James Ronald Arthur Neville Frederick Potter. May you be blessed with the strength of your father. May you possess the goodness of your mother. May the love of your grandmother dwell in you always. May the courage of your grandfathers bring you safely through all trials. May the joy of your aunts and uncles give hope to your heart. And may the blessing of all who love you grow inside you, tiny one, as you become that which you were meant to be."

--

AN: Hermione's spell translates to "Let water be flesh. Let air be iron." It's a very rough translation. My Latin sucks.


	10. Reconciliation and Redemption

**Chapter Ten**

Romy and little James were fast asleep. Harry collapsed at the kitchen table next to Hermione. Ginny bustled out of the pantry with bottles of butterbeer and a few more packages of biscuits. She looked dead on her feet, but she served everyone and then started to go back upstairs. Harry stopped her.

"Gin! Get back here and have a butterbeer!" He patted the bench next to him and smiled welcomingly to contradict his commanding words.

"Oh, no I can't. I have to…" she began to object.

"Nonsense. You have to come and sit with me and have a drink. Romy and James are fine, and you're knackered. Take a break, Superwoman." He grinned in challenge. She rolled her eyes.

"Fine, I'll sit for a few minutes. But then I have to get back upstairs."

"No, after that you have to take a nap. Dumbledore is still here. If there's any problem, I'm sure he'd be happy to handle it." She sat next to him and opened her bottle. Harry watched her for a moment, swigging his drink and wondering if she was going to fall asleep where she sat.

"Ginny," he said at last. She jerked her head toward him as if his voice had surprised her. He grabbed both of her hands and wove his fingers through hers. "Thank you," he said simply.

"For what?"

"For what?" he echoed. "For delivering my son. For being willing to take on so much responsibility and being so great at it." He kissed her forehead and hugged her tightly. She sat back and put her head on his shoulder.

For a moment, Harry wondered what it would've been like if he and Ginny had stayed together. He couldn't picture it. Despite all he had felt for her at school, he didn't see them spending their lives together anymore. She was a huge part of his life, but not like that any longer. He felt more brotherly towards her than anything else.

That's how he felt about all of his friends. Hermione was Harry's sister in every way but blood. The Weasleys had been his parents and their children all counted Harry as a brother. He had never really stopped to think about it, but Dumbledore's blessing had brought it to the front of his mind. He had no family to offer his son, and Romy was an orphaned only child as well. But because of their friends, James would grow up in a full and exciting home. It pained Harry to think that James would never know his uncles Ron, Fred, and Neville, but he would be brought up on stories of what his extended family had accomplished. That was a small amount of comfort at least.

Harry finished his drink and yanked at Ginny's wrist. She was indeed asleep where she sat. At his touch, she jerked awake and looked around in confusion before realizing that she had dozed off.

"Come on, Gin. You've got to get some sleep."

"Yeah, just a short nap. Someone wake me up in about an hour, alright?" Everyone in the kitchen nodded and waved as Harry guided Ginny up the stairs. He walked her to her bedroom door and then went in to check on Romy.

She was still sleeping peacefully. James was wrapped in blankets and lying in a basinette, also asleep. Harry pulled the covers back a little and slipped into bed next to Romy, brushing a tendril of hair away from her face and spooning behind her. She sighed in her sleep and whispered his name. He kissed her cheek and sank into the first deep sleep he'd had since Halloween.

Harry woke suddenly when the door to the bedroom opened slowly. He lay still for a moment, not knowing who was coming in the room. He watched the door with heavily lidded eyes and was rather shocked when he identified the intruder as Draco Malfoy. However, Malfoy didn't spare Harry or Romy a glance as he crossed the room on silent feet. He stood over the basinette with an unreadable expression on his face. He reached out and touched the baby's face once, then turned again to leave. Harry sat up.

"Malfoy." Malfoy jumped a foot off the ground. He obviously had thought Harry was asleep. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see the baby," he said quietly. Harry looked around guiltily. He hadn't exactly been keeping his voice down. Thankfully, he'd woken neither mother nor child. Harry thought for a moment, and felt something like pity for Malfoy rising in his throat.

"Where is your son? His mother?" Malfoy looked startled at the question.

"If we're going to have a heartwarming sentimental conversation, Potter, I suggest we take it elsewhere. Your wife and kid are sleeping." Harry rolled his eyes and climbed out of the bed, following Malfoy into the hall. Malfoy turned to face him once they were a good distance from the doorway.

"If you're really interested, my wife is in hiding with our son. Even I don't know where they are. I owled them as soon as I'd left the Dark Lord's forces and told them to leave our flat. My wife owled back and said they had found a place to hide, and I haven't heard from her since. Happy now, Potter?" Bitter pain oozed from every syllable. Harry could hear it underneath the hard exterior of tight anger that Malfoy put forward. Harry never thought he would feel sorry for Malfoy. He would never in a million years have thought that he would've been thinking of ways he could help his old enemy.

"Do you miss them?" Harry's heart twisted in sympathy. He couldn't imagine not knowing if Romy and James were alright. And living with that for six months! Unthinkable.

"No," Malfoy snapped. "I miss him. Not her."

"You don't miss your wife? Why the hell not?" Harry was dumbfounded, partly at Malfoy's answers, and partly because he was getting answers at all.

"She's a stupid bitch. I never even liked her, let alone loved her enough to miss her while she's gone," he explained with a sneer on his face.

"Then why did you marry her?"

"I should think that would be obvious. Because the Dark Lord wanted me to. He wanted to do something for her father, and a marriage with the son of one of his biggest supporters seemed like the thing to do. Don't get me wrong, she's not a Death Eater, or really even sympathetic to the cause. She just liked me because I had money and a bit of power. Our marriage isn't some great romance, it's merely convenience for both of us. Satisfied now?" Malfoy turned on his heel and stalked down the stairs.

Harry was struck by a flash of disappointment that, during his one opportunity to hit Malfoy, he didn't particularly feel like it.

Harry made a point in talking privately to Dumbledore before he left for Hogwarts again. He asked the headmaster if he could look into the situation with Malfoy's family. Harry didn't know why he was doing anything for Malfoy, but he knew he had to do something. It wasn't right for Malfoy to have to miss his son's childhood, and it was worse for the boy to be without his father. Dumbledore said he'd do what he could. Harry had to content himself with that.

It was past midnight and the curious feeling of…well, _feeling_ hadn't quite passed yet. He had hugged everyone in sight at least three times (not including Malfoy, he had only hugged Malfoy once) and he had spent as much time as possible sitting in bed with one arm around Romy and the other cradling baby James.

He thought maybe that the sensation was fading a little. Here and there, little patches of skin had begun to tingle and prickle like they were falling back asleep. This was perhaps more distressing than not feeling anything at all. Time was precious, he realized. He ran downstairs and downed his last butterbeer ever, then sprinted back up to the bedroom.

By one in the morning, he had given the baby back to Romy, who was struggling to stay awake. He didn't want the baby to get a nasty shock when his father suddenly became completely intangible and dropped him.

By two, Romy was asleep and Harry had lost feeling in all but his hands. And even those would pass through objects if he moved too suddenly. He gave his son one last light caress and left the bedroom.

The next afternoon, he still had some vestige of feeling in his hands. He could still touch things lightly and pick up light objects. The strength of the feeling waxed and waned, but it remained for longer than Harry had expected.

Two days after James' birth, Harry's hands still had feeling.

A week later, Fawkes appeared at the safe house with the customary note from Dumbledore. _New arrivals today._ _One woman, one young child. _Dumbledore always warned them a few hours in advance when people were coming to stay at the safe house. That gave them a chance to bring in a few more food items and prepare enough beds for the new guests.

Hermione and Ginny set out fixing up one of the spare bedrooms for a woman's comfort. They added smelly soap, hair potions, and fluffy towels to the bathroom, knowing that most women who were forced to stay at the safe house had long been deprived of a luxurious bath.

Right on schedule (exactly three hours after the note had arrived), they heard the familiar _whoosh_ sound of an approaching Portkey. A dark haired woman landed on the living room floor with a child no more than two years old strapped to her back. Ginny rushed forward to help her up, but Malfoy pushed her aside and reached the pair first.

"Melaney! Tom…how did you find us? Where have you been? Are you both ok?" He was shouting joyously, and everyone else in the room hung back in confusion. Malfoy's family. Here. Harry glanced at Ginny, George, and Hermione. They seemed to be thinking the same thing. None of them had ever seen Draco Malfoy in this kind of state. Cold, calculating Malfoy, hugging and laughing and grinning like an idiot. What alternate dimension had they slipped in to? Harry tuned back into what the Malfoy family was saying.

"We've been at my grandmother's old place in Wales for the past six months!" Draco's wife, Melaney, said. "It was terribly boring, and the Welsh branch of Gringotts wouldn't let us transfer money from the London branch, so we had to live off of what I had brought with us. It was only a few thousand Galleons, and we had a terrible time. I sent you at least a dozen owls, but they all came right back!" She had tears in her eyes and Harry felt a little guilty for watching, but neither she nor Malfoy seemed to notice them there.

"I tried to send you as many owls, but they all ended up back at Hogwarts," Malfoy explained. "Your grandmother's place must have protection on it."

"Oh yes, I hadn't thought of that," Melaney said with a surprised look on her face. Harry sniffed, remembering Malfoy's assessment of his wife. Apparently he had sniffed too loudly, because all three Malfoys turned to look at them.

"Oh. You're still here," Malfoy said coolly. "Melaney, this is Potter, Granger, and assorted Weasleys. I still don't know which ones they are. Potter, Granger, Weasleys, this is my wife Melaney and my son Tom."

Harry caught Hermione's eye and mouthed "Tom". Her eyes widened a little, but she plastered on a false smile and shook Melaney's hand. She ruffled Tom's cornsilk hair and gave him a real smile.

Melaney shook hands with everyone but Harry, then leaned over to her husband and whispered rather loudly, "Darling, is that _the_ Potter?" Malfoy nodded. "Why is he glowing?" she asked. Malfoy's face reddened a little and he shook his head to stay any other questions his wife might have had. Harry quelled his desire to burst out laughing.

"Ghosts tend to glow, Mrs. Malfoy," he said with laughter in his voice. She looked scandalized.

"Goodness me, I _was_ wondering why I could see the wall behind you through your…" she was cut off by a sharp elbow to the ribs from her husband.

"Melaney, _dear,_ why don't we go upstairs and get you settled in our room?" Malfoy asked her through clenched teeth. He dragged her up the stairs by her elbow, the smallest Malfoy trailing slowly behind them.

As soon as they heard the bedroom door close, all four of them burst into unrestrainable giggles.

-Ten years later-

It was Halloween again. The ten year anniversary of Harry's death. It felt odd to be counting off years since his own death. It seemed wrong somehow, but he always treated Halloween as a special day, no matter where they were or what they were doing. He used the day to remember not only his own death, but those of Arthur, Neville, Molly, Ron, Fred, and everyone else who lost their lives on that horrible Halloween night.

Over the years, they had been moved from house to house and all sent on one assignment or another. After the first year, the nine of them (including Malfoy's family) were rarely all in the same place at the same time. They had come to regard themselves as a large family, so the times when they all were together were made into unofficial celebrations. Little Tom doted on baby James and once James started walking, the two of them were always off getting into some sort of trouble. Draco and Melaney never really got friendly with anyone, but they seemed to accept the fact that their circumstances were permanent and made the best of them. Draco and Harry often had long discussions about strategy and planning that usually ended with Draco telling Harry that he thought like a Muggle and Harry countering that Draco thought like a Death Eater. It usually wasn't a good idea to point out that Draco's thinking was likely an advantage for them.

Ginny had taken it upon herself to teach Melaney how to cook and keep house. Gin had become the unofficial mum of the house. She reminded everyone to change their sheets and rinse their dishes, cooked for them, and took loving care of the weary refugees who came into their house. In the past few months, a rather charming young man named Connor had shown up every couple weeks, supposedly looking for a few days of rest, and spent the entire time making cow eyes at Ginny. Harry sometimes felt the urge to punt him out of the house, but Ginny seemed to like him, so he curbed the impulse.

Oddly enough, Harry still retained feeling in his hands. It seemed that something in the spell hadn't worked quite right, because even ten years later, Harry could turn the pages of books himself, and ruffle his son's hair, and touch his wife's face.

He regarded Romilly as his wife, though the ceremony they had was hardly legal. A wizard who had formerly worked for the Ministry had declared them man and wife, and Harry held that as the truth. It was better for James to grow up knowing that his parents were married, even if they hadn't been when their son was born.

James (Jamie, they called him), was growing up wonderfully. He was a bright and happy child who brought noise and happiness into whatever house they might be staying in. His hair was as black and untidy as his father's, but his eyes kept the blue of his infancy. Romy had hoped they would turn green like his father's, but he undoubtedly had his mother's eyes. Harry wondered if, a year from now, teachers at Hogwarts would be telling him that he looked just like his father, except for the eyes. His mother's eyes. Harry could recite that litany from memory, he'd heard it so many times. He hoped that Jamie wouldn't get too much unwanted attention because of who his father was.

This particular Halloween morning, Harry had woken from a restless sleep hours before dawn, feeling like something was about to happen. He slept very rarely lately, so he had been surprised to discover that he had dozed off in a chair the night before. The disquieting feeling of foreboding lingered until the sun rose and then spiked to an alarming peak. Harry sat up straight in his seat at the kitchen table and looked around in distress as the walls of the kitchen began to melt away. He was being pulled somewhere, as if there was an invisible cord wrapped around his waist. Something was very wrong here. He wasn't dreaming. He hadn't had a dream since before his death. Something was very wrong.

The melting sensation stopped and Harry looked around, gasping and gaping at his surroundings. He had been here before. He was in the Ministry of Magic. The Department of Mysteries, to be more specific.

In the Death Chamber. Staring at the archway and veil that had taken Sirius from him.

What was he doing here?

The question was answered before he could really ask it. He couldn't explain how he knew, but he did. He could go through the veil. He could go on to where ever it is that people go when they die. He could end this half-life and do the easy thing for once.

_No._ _Not now. I'm not ready, and they still need me._

Nick's voice echoed in his head. _Stop lying to yourself. Before it's too late. Have the courage to go on when it's over._

_It's not over,_ Harry told himself firmly. _I'm not done here. Voldemort is still alive. _

"No," he said out loud. The sound of his voice echoed all through the Death Chamber and the walls began to fade. He was back in the kitchen of the safe house. The sun was up now.

--

AN: Sorry for the huge time jumps here, people. I hate doing it. But it needed to be done. blush


	11. New Love and Hard Decisions

**Chapter Eleven**

Harry wasn't alone in the kitchen. He was surprised by the sight of Hermione and George sitting across from each other, holding hands over the table and talking earnestly. Apparently, his arrival went unheralded, because they continued talking without even a glance in his direction.

"…ten years," George was saying.

"It has. I think we should do something today," Hermione replied, biting her lip and looking at the table.

"Something special," George agreed. Harry cleared his throat and their hands separated guiltily and they stared at him with shock written on their faces.

"H-Harry! How…when…have you been there long?" Hermione stammered.

"A few seconds. I had a weird morning that I wouldn't mind a second opinion on, if you could spare me a minute or two," Harry smirked at her discomfort. George was staring at his own hands in his lap and was uncharacteristically silent.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. I'm going to make some tea, but I'll meet you out on the porch in a few minutes, ok?"

Harry smiled knowingly and made a quick exit. He retreated to the porch and took in the beautiful autumn morning. The sun was shining brightly and the dew on the grass was slowly being burned away by its rays. The blades of tall grass around the house swayed lightly in the wind and Harry strained to feel the breeze. Sometimes, if he concentrated enough, his hair would ruffle in the wind and his face would tingle with sensation. He was never sure what he was concentrating on, but it worked. The last vestige of Hermione's spell.

This was the eighth safe house that the mismatched family had lived in. All were enchanted to be inaccessible by anyone but those who already knew where it was, but the landscape could be identified by the occupants. Harry guessed that this one wasn't actually too far from Hogwarts by broom ride. Not that a broom could fly on to or off of the surrounding grounds. The house was surrounded by a large field, which was ringed by a huge stand of old pines, which was encircled by ancient, snowcapped mountains. Of all the houses they had lived in, this one felt the most like home. James and Tom liked it the best too. There was plenty of room for loud games and for flying toy broomsticks and running around outside.

Draco had decided not to send Tom to Hogwarts. He said it was too risky, that Voldemort never forgot a betrayal. He and Melaney took turns teaching their son according to Hogwarts curriculum and they said that would have to do until Voldemort was stopped.

Voldemort was in no way weakening. It seemed that Hogwarts was the only safe place in the world anymore. Even the established safe houses were eventually infiltrated and had to be moved. Voldemort and his followers had taken over half the governments on the continent, and it was assumed that it was only a matter of time before they ruled Britain too. No one knew how Diggory and his administration had held on to power so long. Maybe they were already losing control and just didn't know it yet. It was only a matter of time before Voldemort expanded his borders to include the entire world.

Not that the Order and the Ministry weren't fighting back. They most certainly were. But every day, the Dark forces grew and the good guys couldn't keep up. For every Death Eater that was killed, at least three Aurors or members of the Order died. They were fighting a losing battle, but they kept fighting.

There wasn't a day that went by that Harry didn't wish he had killed Voldemort in his seventh year. He had relived that day a thousand times. It had been just the two of them, Harry and Voldemort. Dumbledore's voice had played in Harry's head, telling him that he had something that Voldemort didn't.

Mercy. Voldemort couldn't understand _mercy_. And that was what had contained him for three years after his battle with Harry. Harry constantly wondered if he could've done anything differently. _Could_ he have killed Voldemort? Would it have worked? Was it the simple act of _not_ killing him that had brought the Dark Lord to his knees? Harry didn't have the answers to those questions. He was afraid to ask anyone else for help.

Hermione opened the front door quietly and sat next to Harry, gripping a cup of tea tightly.

"Where's George?" Harry asked in a tight voice. He hadn't had a chance to think about the scene he had witnessed in the kitchen.

"He went upstairs to see if Ginny is up. We want to talk to the two of you," Hermione replied quietly.

"What is there to talk about?"

"Oh Harry, George and I…" she began.

"For how long?" Harry interrupted.

"Only a month or so. Harry, I wanted to tell you."

"Why didn't you?" He felt sullen and irritated. He didn't like secrets. They were dangerous.

"I was afraid, and so was George. It just seemed like…like we were betraying Ron somehow." Her voice was thick and emotional, but Harry wasn't moved.

"Then why did you…?" Harry couldn't finish the sentence.

"I don't think we really are betraying him. It just feels like that sometimes, you know? We were afraid you and Ginny would think so too."

"If Ron were alive…"

"If Ron were alive, I would be with him. No question. I've never felt about anyone the way I felt about Ron, the way I still feel about him. But I don't think Ron would want me to be alone, and I've mourned him long enough." Harry thought about this for a moment. He didn't think he would ever stop mourning that freckled git that he'd known for all of his life that counted for anything.

"Are you with George because he's Ron's brother?" Harry asked bluntly.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed tearfully. "He's not Ron, and I know that. I'm not with him because he reminds me of Ron. He's different. He's quiet and sensitive, and smart…we never even got even a hint of how smart he is when we were all at school together. There are times when he smiles and I swear it's Ron looking at me, but that passes. He's…I'm with him because he's _George. _He's his own person and it's that person that I love." She blushed, obviously not intending to say as much as she had.

"Alright then." Harry was satisfied, and not really angry anymore. Hermione and George were adults, both in their thirties, they had every right to do what they wanted. It was still a little disquieting to think of her with anyone but Ron, but he supposed he would get over that.

"So what happened this morning?" Hermione asked, seemingly eager to change the subject.

Harry told her of waking early, the feeling of urgency, finding himself in the Death Chamber. She digested this with ease and pondered for a moment.

"So you don't know how you got there?" Harry shook his head and described again how the kitchen had melted away and been replaced with the high walls and rows of benches in the Department of Mysteries.

"And how do you know you were supposed to go through?"

"I told you. It wasn't even as obvious as a voice in my head. I just…_knew._ I'm not sure how. It was like the veil itself was speaking to me, telling me to come through, that it would all be over and I could take back the mistake I made ten years ago. But there were no words, just the feeling."

"So that's what Nick meant by changing your mind before it was too late," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I think you should go talk to Nick today."

Harry considered this. He wasn't sure he wanted to go have a ghost-to-ghost chat with Nearly-Headless Nick. But he saw the wisdom in it. He nodded wordlessly.

"I think Dumbledore might stop over today to check on that new couple and their baby on the third floor…what are their names again?"

"The Aranias. Logan and Eva, the baby is Jocelyn. Have they come out of the room yet?" Harry worried about the people brought into their care. They all had the same look about them; lost, hopeless, hurting. The Arania family was not the first to hole up in a bedroom for their entire stay.

"I saw Eva in the kitchen yesterday. She looked like she wanted to run when I came in. I wish there was more we could do for them." Hermione sighed and got up from her chair. "I'm going to go see if George has roused Ginny. I'll let you know if Dumbledore arrives." Harry nodded and watched her go back into the house.

Dumbledore did indeed arrive at the safe house that afternoon. Harry followed the sounds of Jamie giggling and found Dumbledore picking himself up off the living room floor with exaggerated dignity.

"Uncle Dumble! Did you bring me anything?" Jamie laughed, using his favorite nickname for the professor. Jamie had always been fascinated by Dumbledore, asking him a hundred questions every time he visited. Dumbledore always brought the little boy some sort of sweets.

"Not today, young Mr. Potter. I'm afraid that I touched that Portkey by accident and came here without so much as a lemon drop in the bottom of my pocket. Can you ever forgive me?" Sorrow dripped from his every feature, but his eyes were still twinkling with a hint of suppressed laughter.

"You're silly, Uncle Dumble. Everyone knows you don't touch stuff that could be a Portkey. You never know where you might end up!" He echoed his mother's advice to the letter. "You should know that! You're old!"

"Jamie!" Romy exclaimed in surprised laughter, standing up to greet Dumbledore.

"It's quite alright, Romilly. The boy speaks the truth. I _am_ quite old, aren't I?" He leaned down to ruffle Jamie's hair. "You know, now that I think of it I might just have a little something for a growing boy." He screwed his face up in concentration and rummaged through voluminous pockets before producing a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Jamie accepted it with glee, picking through the bag and putting a few beans into his pocket. He could pick out the really distasteful flavors by now.

"James, what do you say?" Romy said in a warning tone.

"Thank you, Uncle Dumble!" he said through a mouthful of jellybeans. Harry came farther into the room and patted his son on the head.

"Hello Professor," Harry greeted Dumbledore. The old professor shook Harry's hand and excused himself to go speak with the Aranias. Harry tossed a ball around with Jamie until Dumbledore reappeared.

"Professor, do you think I could come back to Hogwarts with you? I need to have a talk with Sir Nicholas," Harry asked before Dumbledore could become too engaged with Jamie again.

"Oh? Is it something I should know about?" Dumbledore looked casually interested, but as always, he had the look of someone who knows what you're going to say before you say it.

"Jamie, Tom should be done with his schoolwork by now. Why don't you go see if he wants to play outside?" Romy shooed the boy out of the room. She and Harry had decided it would be best for him not to know about what had transpired that morning, at least until he was older.

Harry told Dumbledore the whole story. The headmaster thought for a moment and then spoke slowly.

"That's very interesting. I'm sure I've heard a similar story from others over the years. And that would quite explain why Moaning Myrtle disappeared several years ago. We had no idea, you see, and the other ghosts were less than helpful on the subject. They kept implying that she had found another place to haunt, though we all knew that was impossible." Dumbledore smiled and nudged the battered pair of earmuffs on the floor with the toe of his boot. "It should be about time for the Portkey to take us back, if you're ready, Harry." Harry nodded, waved to Romy, and picked up the earmuffs. Dumbledore took hold too and in a brief moment they were back at Hogwarts.

Harry found Nick with little trouble. It was a good thing that the Marauders Map showed ghosts as well as live people, and that Dumbledore had kept it for him, otherwise he would've spent hours searching the castle and never guessed that Nick would be in the owlery.

"Hello Harry," Nick said glumly as Harry entered the high-ceilinged chamber. Nick's ruffled collar rose and fell as the older ghost sighed repeatedly. "I suspected I might be seeing you today. Happy Halloween."

"What's so happy about it?" Harry caught Nick's mood with ease and joined him by the windows.

"My thoughts exactly." Nick sighed once more and turned his back to the window.

"Why didn't you tell me, Nick?" Harry asked without prelude.

"I wish I could have. You might have been a bit more prepared than I was the first time. But with all that quick travel and the whole surprise factor, it's hardly a wonder that most people react with a hearty 'No thanks'. They haven't prepared themselves for it."

"Aren't you allowed to talk about it?"

"It's not a matter of not being allowed. It's more that I actually can't. They have it very tightly contained, you see, and they have no intention of letting the secret get out before a body can find it out for themselves."

"They? Who are 'they'?" Harry was puzzled.

"I'm not quite sure. Higher beings? God? Whoever it is that controls the afterlife and all its mysteries? I couldn't say. It certainly isn't those ruffians at the Department of Mysteries. They just happen to have the ownership papers to the gateway." Nick let out a bitter laugh.

"Will I get another chance?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Y – oh dear, there it is again. Can't say a word. Terribly sorry. Let's see if I can say this: if you do get another chance, don't waste it. Each one might be your last. Oh yes, it seems that cryptic warnings are permitted." Nick smiled cheerfully and Harry almost laughed. He raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright, you can't tell me. I get it. Thanks anyway, Nick. Have a happy death day." He patted the other ghost on the back and left the owlery for the headmaster's office. He found Dumbledore sitting quietly at his desk, staring out the windows at the sunset.

"That seems to be a popular pursuit at the moment," Harry commented as he floated through the wall.

"There's a lot more out there than trees and grass, you know," Dumbledore answered at once. "There's a future on that horizon. I envy the sun, Harry. It sees what's coming before the rest of us. It sees where we will be in an hour, two hours, a day. Oh, to be that fortunate…" The headmaster trailed off wistfully. Harry wondered what had caused his switch from the lighthearted Uncle Dumble to the professor of gloom and doom. Dumbledore stared out the window for a moment longer then turned his back to it and all the wisdom it provided.

"No matter, Harry. The future I want to discuss with you is well within our control. I wanted to talk to you about Jamie." Dumbledore switched to a businesslike mode instantly.

"What about Jamie?" Harry sat down and faced his old teacher.

"I want to know if he will be attending Hogwarts when he's the proper age," Dumbledore said simply. Harry fell silent. He hadn't thought about that at all in the past few months. The subject had come up when Tom had received his Hogwarts letter, but the matter had been buried at the back of Harry's mind since then.

Did he want Jamie to go? On the one hand, Harry didn't want Jamie to grow up the way he had. Jamie was bound to be greeted with whispers and stares and constantly asked if his father is Harry Potter. On the other hand, Harry was sure he and Romy couldn't provide the kind of education that the Hogwarts staff could. But what of the danger? Harry knew that Hogwarts was the only safe place left in Europe, but there were too many ways for a person to be lured out of the castle. He didn't want to put Jamie in danger by sending him away from his family. But he would never make any lasting friends living at the safe house his whole life. He had Tom, but one friend sometimes wasn't enough. When Jamie and Tom fought, neither of them had another friend to go to. And what about Tom? It would be cruel to deprive him of his best friend for such long periods of time. Harry's head was spinning with pros and cons before he finally shook his head to clear it and looked up.

"I'll let you know before the letters get sent out," he told Dumbledore.

Dumbledore nodded. "Take your time. I simply wanted to introduce the dilemma for your consideration while you still had plenty of time to think about it."

A knock sounded on the door. Dumbledore waved his hand at it, opening it to reveal several freckled faces and quite a lot of bright red hair. Bill, Charlie, and Percy stood outside the door.

Harry greeted them enthusiastically, even Percy, who seemed reserved and a little nervous in the presence of his older brothers.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked them when all the handshaking and small talk had ended.

"We're going to the safe house for the night," Bill explained. "Ginny owled us this morning and asked if we might want to get together, since…y'know, it's been ten years and all that."

"Oh," Harry said in a small voice. He had almost forgotten what he had overheard Hermione and George talking about that morning. "We'd better get going then, hadn't we? Ginny will have dinner ready by now." Three red heads nodded and Dumbledore handed Harry the same dirty earmuffs and gestured for everyone to take hold.

"Are you coming, Professor?" Charlie asked before touching the Portkey.

"I'm afraid I can't. I must make an appearance at the Halloween feast tonight." He gave a long-suffering sigh accompanied by a wink and then the Portkey whisked them back to the house.

Sixteen chairs crowded the big table in the safe house's dining room. Five Weasleys, three Potters, three Malfoys, three Aranias, Hermione, and the incurable Connor. He had shown up out of the blue shortly after Harry and Dumbledore had left, and was now playing with baby Jocelyn and (as always) making eyes at Ginny. And as always, Harry felt the urge to kick him right between his big, handsome blue eyes. He hoped that would be interpreted as a brotherly, protective reaction, and not jealous-ex-boyfriend behavior.

They gathered at the table as Ginny brought out covered dishes and a bottle of wine. Harry supervised Jamie washing his hands and then joined the group, noticing with more than a little embarrassment that they had left him the seat at the head of the table. He was bracketed by Hermione on his left and Romy on his right. Harry sat down and looked around at the assembled group. They were all looking at him expectantly. He had no idea what to do.

After a long, awkward silence, Harry picked up the empty glass next to his plate and stood.

"It's so great to see everyone here. Old friends," he nodded to the Weasleys, "new acquaintances," he raised his glass to Logan, Eva, and Connor, "and, if you had asked me ten years ago, the last people I'd expect to be willingly sharing a table with," he finished with a grin to the Malfoy family. He cleared his throat and continued.

"I guess we all know why we're here. It's been ten years since the worst night that most of us can remember. We all lost something that night. Mothers, fathers, brothers, loved ones, the life that we had always known. So, I guess we're here to remember what we've had to do without for ten years. The people we love are gone, but we will never forget them. We are burned, but not broken. Our world is torn, but we are still fighting. As long as even one of us remains, those that we lost will never truly be gone." His throat closed up, so he raised his glass. "To the people we will never forget."

Bill and Charlie stood. "To Mum and Dad," Bill said.

"To Ron," Hermione chimed in, getting to her feet.

"To Fred," George added in a thick voice.

"Neville." Ginny stood next to her brothers.

"To Lily and James Potter," Romy put in, raising her glass and trying to get Jamie to raise his too.

"To Lord Voldemort!" All eyes turned to Malfoy, where he stood looking sheepish. "Right, not the time for a joke, I'll just have some wine then…"


End file.
